Breaking
by quantumsilver
Summary: A Counterpoint universe novel. The beginning, the end, and in between. Janeway, Chakotay, Kashyk's POVs. All chapters up now.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: The characters aren't mine, and I make no money from this.

**Author's Notes**: Counterpoint always left a lot of unanswered questions for me. How did Kashyk know the telepaths were on Voyager? What could have prompted Janeway to take them on in the first place, knowing the danger involved? Were J and C doing _anything_ behind the scenes, or were they just not talking at all, the way the episode portrayed? Using all POVs, this is the story of what happened before the episode begins, as well as what happened after the end credits rolled. I suggest being (very) familiar with the episode, as this story does not repeat scenes seen on screen but does refer to them.

This story stands alone, but it is the prequel to _Broken_. You do not need to have read that in order to follow this, but for reference, the prologue opens at the moments just before the events in _Broken_, but we're not covering the same ground twice.

Lastly, as long as this thing took me to write…near four years from beginning date to end…Cheshire has suffered through a good portion of that alongside me. She not only had to read all this raw and encouraged me throughout, but she had to beta the full lot of it. She deserves a medal for that alone. In fairness to her, anything unbearably wordy…I most likely snuck in afterward. Thanks, hon. You are awesomeness incarnate! Speaking of awesomeness…for the read-through of the prologue, thank you also to Gates Hepburn. She's another fine specimen of awesomeness :D

The story is finished, but due to its length, I'll be posting at one chapter a day.

**_Prologue _**

**_(The End...)  
_**

_

* * *

_

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

I take another sip of wine, savoring the cool, crisp flavor. Thinking about everything we've talked about tonight. Thinking about everything we're probably _going_ to talk about. It's been hell not being able to trust ship's security enough to speak completely freely most of the time. But we're almost out, almost past the Devore border. Another day or so, and the Devore Imperium will seem like a distant dream.

Or nightmare.

Kashyk hasn't been heard from in over a week. Not since our last meeting on his ship, taking place quite literally over Prax's dead body…

I repress an inward shudder. Not only at the memory of the body lying there on the floor like a trophy on display but at that haunting expression on Kashyk's face. The look in his eye…

_For you_, he'd said. For me. He'd killed Prax…for _me_.

I'm not that naive. I know damned well he did it mostly for himself. To save his own reputation from ruin…for letting that wormhole slip through his fingers by underestimating me and my ability to keep the coordinates from him. It's just that a kernel…a very _tiny_ kernel of what he said…might have been based in truth. Because there was absolutely no reason to have summoned me to his ship to inform me of Prax's attempt to report us to the Imperium otherwise. No reason he should have let me return to _Voyager_ unharmed. Not without at least _trying_ for those coordinates one last time. And he hadn't.

Some tiny part of Kashyk had, for once, been telling the truth.

And he'd let us go. Had let me go.

Again.

I'd expected him to say goodbye, at least. Had expected it right up until about three hours ago, when the last moment had come and gone: the last moment that his ship could have popped up on our sensors while still enabling him to rendezvous with us before we left his space. We've been scanning continuously for Devore ships using refractive shielding specs he'd given us ever since I'd departed his ship over a week ago.

Nothing.

The high of success, of yet another impossible victory is already fading, that fast. In the aftermath, the melancholy slowly begins to creep back in from the edges of my mind. I take another slow sip from the half-filled glass in my hand, and doing so, feel my cheeks warm slightly with the slight flush of alcoholic beverage. I realize my turtleneck is growing just slightly uncomfortably warm, and I frown into the golden liquid just below my nose. It's only my second glass, but it's been a few months since the occasion has called for much in the way of celebration…and I didn't really eat much dinner. Don't have an appetite, for some reason. I should probably make a single glass of the cider Chakotay's returning with my last and then switch to coffee…

I should also probably start cleaning up – before Chakotay comes back and does it for me. Because I know he will, and he'll do it so I don't even notice until it's too late and already done.

My feet ache, I realize, uncrossing my legs under the table. I've been standing most of the day…the parts of the day I haven't been crawling through Jeffries tubes, that is. I glance over at the closed doors.

Chakotay shouldn't be back with the cider for another few minutes. I have time to get out of these boots and into some casual, comfortable clothing and still start clean-up by the time he returns. He needs rest as much, if not more, than I do. By my count, he hasn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, thanks to the Devore.

Possibly, if I had more energy for self-honesty this evening, I'd admit it's also, at least in part, thanks to me. I don't have the energy for that admission yet. Not tonight. But I _can_ admit that his support these past few weeks has made a world of difference in my ability to pull this off. To get us out of here safely. He deserves that much for his unfailing loyalty, and I can and will tell him so when he gets back. And possibly, if there's anything leftover after _that_ admission…he deserves a little forgiveness. For…slightly less recent history. It might be time to let "the incident" from The Void go, at last. To admit that what he did by coming to my quarters that night…by confronting me…wasn't _entirely_ out of line, given my own behavior.

_Might _be. We'll see.

I head for my bedroom, leaving the door open behind me so I'll hear him in case he comes back. Deliberately not calling for lights on the off chance I'm not finished dressing when he does. I breathe a heartfelt sigh of relief on kicking off my boots, and so do my poor feet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I bend down to pull off my socks and rub at my aching insteps for a moment. Wondering, not for the first time, why I had to get the shorter end of the genetic stick. Mom isn't as short as I am – even Phoebe managed close to 1.7 meters. _And_ curly hair.

I still haven't quite forgiven her the latter.

Shooting the heels of death a final dark look for good measure, my mind flicks back to ships' business as I rid myself of the turtleneck and tank. We'd been hoping to be able to modify the refractive shielding and add it to our arsenal. As I'd told Kashyk – it would be a shame to waste those specs. But after several days of trying to conceptualize the necessary changes to _Voyager's_ hardware, it's just not feasible. Not with current resources, at any rate. If Seven, B'Elanna, and Tuvok together can't find a way to do it, it can't be done, I have to concede.

Disappointing, really. It would have been a nice little insurance policy to have, I think ruefully again, reaching behind me to unfasten the constrictive bra and then replacing all three removed articles of clothing with a single form-fitting tank of comfortable cotton. I'll throw a sweater over it in a moment. It's still a shame. It would have been good to have a new project to work on. To throw myself into, so to speak – one _not_ fraught with potential danger to my ship, that is. Maybe I'll find the time to take a look at those specs myself. Just in case I might see something they haven't. Can't hurt.

Mindlessly unfastening my pants, easing them over my hips and padding in the semi darkness to my closet for a loose pair of sweats, I'm thinking of the crew in general. It hasn't been an easy few months. Not by a long shot. It's been difficult on everyone, myself included. As exuberant as the general mood has been the past few days, it's already begun to give way to a collective fatigue. I frown, rifling through my clothing. I want the blue pair of sweats, the soft cashmere blend, but I don't know where they've gotten to…a sign of an overworked, overtired mind, most likely.

We all need to refuel. Neelix's "Post Devore Party" tomorrow night is probably going to be just what the doctor or–

A noise startles me, followed by a rush of air at an approaching figure's movement, and I feel blood rush into my cheeks in embarrassment. It never crossed my mind that he'd come directly into my bedroom looking for me…especially if it was dark!

Damn. This is going to awkward, but I suppose it's my own fault. I whirl around to face him, grabbing at whatever pair of pants my hands had happened to be touching when I'd heard him enter. "Chakotay," there's a hint of definite annoyance in my voice at his breach of etiquette by entering, "what are you doing back alrea–"

A hand closes tightly over my arm, yanking me forward into solid, leather-clothed muscle, and even before I hear the distinctive voice growl, "Lights!" I know exactly who it is.

"Kashyk," the name passes through the strangling sensation in my throat as his face comes into shocking view under the bright lights, looming over me.

I recover quickly. So do my temper and my curiosity. "What _the_ _hell_ are you doing?" I demand. "How are you…how did you get _in_ here?"

He doesn't answer me. Angry at the unexpected, unwelcome intrusion, especially into my _bedroom_ of all places, I study his face for the answers I'm damned well entitled to, surprised by the anger reflecting right back at me from him. An uncomfortable sensation begins to gather in the pit of my stomach then, and not just at the mortification that I'm barely dressed, either.

Because it's what I see just beyond his shoulder that disturbs me far more than his intrusion or his inexplicable anger.

Kashyk hasn't come alone. Several of his men are standing in my living room, watching us from just beyond the door as he begins to pull me towards them, and comprehension is dawning swiftly.

This isn't a personal visit. He's not simply here to say goodbye. And because this is all happening in my quarters, instead of the bridge…or the ready room…not even Theta Four is going to be able to help me now.

My body goes screaming into full red alert mode because it's in this moment I realize _Voyager_'s in real danger. He's changed his mind.

He's come to take the ship.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

There's no reason for the jealousy that wells up within me at the romantic sight of the meal she had obviously not been consuming alone. There is no reason for the rage to spark, to flare out of control as I stride into her darkened bedroom to find her undressing there. There is no reason for desire to blossom uncontrollably at the sight of her white, half-dressed silhouette as I approach her. At the haunting scent of her perfume.

Dear Gods, is she _entertaining_, here?

I'm well into the room in no time, calling for lights, and then there's no reason for the effect her illuminated, partially nude form has on me, but my anger dissipates by the merest fraction at the sight of it.

Hers doesn't. She rails at me, demanding to know what I want. How I got here without my ship being detected. I hardly hear her, the pulse pounding too hard through my temples at the knowledge of what I have to do to her. What she will no doubt _make_ me do to her.

There's no other way. If Juryk arrives to find her whole…unblemished, and free…

What he will do to her will be far, far worse. He'll hurt her, yes. Take her ship. Imprison her crew. That will kill her more effectively than what else he will likely do to her. Than anything _I_ now have to do to her to prevent that from happening.

I want to allow her to dress herself. To face us with dignity. I want to show her at least the respect she deserves to be afforded, the way a woman of her caliber commands.

I can't.

She tears her arm free of my loosening grasp as I yank her out into the living room. "At least let me get _dressed_ first," she hisses scathingly, her thoughts apparently in line with my own.

"No," I deny simply, tearing the article of clothing she clings to from her hands and throwing it over her shoulder, out of her reach before she can move to stop me. Unsurprised at the anticipatory sneers on the guards' faces at my refusal and forcing none of the remorse I feel to show on my face. Not even a hint. I can't even tell her the reason _why_ I'm going to do what I now have to do to her. They're watching. Will be at all times. There's absolutely no way for me to explain to her…

I harden myself to the sight of her. To her anger and the sight of her vulnerability. Remembering it's her fault she appears before me now in this state, not mine.

Either way, it's done. There's no changing it now. She's going to be hurt. That's the inevitable outcome of this visit, and I know it full well. All I can do now is to try and minimize the damage done to her – _if_ she will let me.

I don't fully understand the terror forming within me at the realization that she won't.

"Clear," Brek announces stoically as he pushes his way past us to check the adjoining bathroom, sharply pulling me out of my disturbing thoughts.

My eyes narrow. I'd thought obviously _he_ must still be here. And even if she hadn't spoken his name seconds ago, I'd have known who it was that had been sharing this intimate setting with her – who it was she must have been undressing in anticipation for. Her casual touches gave them away – possibly without her noticing. And him. His challenging stares, boring into me as I passed. The dark, impotent and territorial warnings he glowered into me whenever I passed by him at her side…

And I can _smell_ him. He hasn't been gone long, and he will be returning shortly. How could he not, with what stands before me in all her glory waiting for him?

My eyes pass coldly over her. Over all that isn't concealed. She's beautiful…heartbreakingly lovely. More beautiful even than I'd expected…

She _lied_.

She's been fucking him all along. Couldn't have had any _intention_ of joining me, because her heart was never free to begin with.

Once more, Kathryn Janeway has made a fool of me. She loves _him_.

That fact fully penetrates, and I let the fresh wave of anger wash over me, welcome the sharp, unaccustomed stab of jealously and allow both to fortify my resolve. I let it harden me to her further, let it drown out the slew of angry demands for explanations, threats she hurls at me one right after the other. I let the rage begin to form, to gather into a storm of bundled potential energy and welcome that, too.

I'll need it.

"Where _is he_?" I demand, cutting over her just at the moment that a new and muffled voice emanates from the chair beside us.

"…_vok to Captain Janeway. We have detected an unauthorized transport to Deck Three, section twelve. Sensors are showing five Devoran life signs in your quarters. A security team has been dispatched…"_

She moves to answer, to take her jacket with the attached commbadge from the chair at the table, but Brek automatically aims his weapon, warning her against it until he looks to me to see my decision. I order the computer to seal the doors to the room, giving the code I'd gotten from her earlier, when I'd needed to turn off internal sensors during that first visit.

She freezes. Looks at me with that burning glower of betrayal…and just a hint of calculation coupled with surprise. Mostly betrayal. And anger.

My betrayal hasn't even begun yet.

"How the _hell_ did you get that code?" she growls dangerously. What would be dangerously, if I didn't have the benefit of four armed guards on my side of this tragic equation.

All eyes are on me now. I feel it. And I want to stall for time…to find a way out of this impossible situation. Some way to get out of it without her paying the price I know she will pay otherwise…even in my rage at having been betrayed by her _again_, I don't want her hurt. Not like _this_.

I don't understand myself anymore.

"_Captain, please respond."_

I have no choice. And I know that others are watching right now, as well. Others that want to find any indication that my feelings for this woman might have compromised my treatment of her. Any hint that my feelings for her may have affected my judgment, tempered my notorious brutality…and caused me to betray my people.

I remind myself that what those people will do to her will be worse even than that which I'll have to do to prevent them taking _Voyager_. Taking her.

"Tell him to stand down," I bark out the uncompromising order to her. Daring her to disobey. "Tell him to recall those teams."

"I won't do that," she spits back immediately, drawing herself up to full height.

It isn't much to speak of without those boots of hers, which had been so much taller than I'd noticed, apparently.

Her eyes blaze plasma fire into me. Her very aura crackling danger menace as she hisses flatly, "Either state your business here, or get off my ship."

I shake my head curtly. Wanting to smile sadly but unable to. Feeling my eyes harden as I, once again, allow my eyes to pass over the half-eaten remnants of a romantic dinner. Over the half-dressed image of her.

"I'm not here for _Voyager_," I snap back at her. "I could care less about the ship or your crew, but you and I have unfinished business, Captain."

"What _kind_ of unfinished business?" she demands.

I ignore her. "Tell him to stand down and wait for further instruction, or this all becomes much uglier than it has to be."

She pauses. Her slate grey eyes raking over me as if _she's_ a telepath, her scrutiny sending almost palpable waves of penetrating calculation searing over my features. Trying to gauge my level of truthfulness.

We don't have time for it.

"It's up to you, Captain. You have a choice to make here, but do it quickly. The offer to spare the rest of them is going to expire in three seconds. One. Two…"

She hesitates only a nanosecond of that allotted time frame. Shooting me a continuous glower of the purest contempt as she reaches over to the chair, without breaking eye contact. She's already forgotten her state of undress, from the way she carries herself now. She is focused solely upon me, my men, and the threat we pose to her ship.

Gods help me, but she's magnificent.

She taps the badge, and as she does, I note all four men, my two and the traitors, taking a better aim at her in warning.

She spares them each a scathing glare that would incinerate them where they stand if she had her say, I know.

"It's all right, Tuvok. Stand down the security team. Inspector Kashyk has come to say goodbye. It appears we have some…" her eyes flash at me, "unfinished business…to work out between us."

"_We are not detecting any Devore ships in proximity_," the Vulcan's concerned voice replies in uncertainty.

"I'm sure the inspector will explain himself shortly, Tuvok." Her eyes flicker with the hint of question at me. The hint of question through the coldly manifested rage, I mean. "I'll let you know if I need your assistance," she adds, shooting me a pointed look that dares me to disagree, "but don't do anything until you hear from me. Janeway out." She cuts the link. "Well?" she demands of me immediately. "Answer the question, Inspector. How the hell did you get within transporter range without our sensors detecting you?"

"I couldn't very well give you _all_ of our secrets, Captain," I force myself to smirk at her. But then I realize, by the look on the faces of Kurros, Frenz, and especially Brex and Jahal that my answer isn't quite satisfactory…

"What do you _want_, Inspector?" she grits out before I can elaborate.

I reach out to take the jacket from her, which she had been moving to put on over the sleeveless shirt she wears, and she snaps her head up as I take it, tossing it to Brex even as she fixes me with a warning glare of incredulity.

The door chimes. For an instant, I think it's the security team. I think she's lied to me again, has given the Vulcan some non-obvious signal to continue with his tactical resistance to our presence even as I note her eyes settle in what must be feigned surprise on the door.

"Chakotay," she breathes out in sudden realization, and I freeze in the act of moving toward her. "He went to get a bottle of cider from the cargo bay," she explains, her eyes snapping back to me as I too remember I'd been expecting him, and the anger in me flares again looking over her soft, feminine form barely concealed in the undergarments she wears.

And what happens next there is no excuse for. It's entirely within my own discretion whether or not to proceed in the way that I choose to now. My rage…the sheer, maddening sense of betrayal the entire scene instills in me speaks instead of my reason.

There's no reason she should bear the brunt of the unfortunate unpleasantness here alone. There were two individuals involved in her final, most devastating deception. Two individuals will now pay for it.

Motioning the guards to either side of the door with a jerk of my head, I keep my hard eyes fixed on her steel blue-grey. "Let him in," I demand.

She opens her mouth to refuse. I see it clearly. I take a single menacing step towards her. "Choose," I practically snarl. "Let _him_ in, or I will order inspection teams of twenty men to board every deck of this ship. And it won't be inspections they'll be performing, I assure you."

Her contempt for me grows as she scrutinizes my affect and then – _damn her_ – sees right through to the core of my anger.

"Kashyk…" she shakes her head vigorously back and forth, eyes widening in realization. "No. You're mistaken. You don't understand," she lies. Again. _Everything_ out of her mouth is a lie. "This isn't what it looks li–"

A shimmer of molecules just over her shoulder, which she hears, shuts her up mid-sentence. I glower daggers into the eyes of none other than Manna when he appears, and I drop the arm I'd lifted to take firmer hold of her to hover over my weapon instead. The fear bolting through my entire body at the notion that it may already be too late to save her.

"What is this?" I hiss dangerously at him, at full alert. Ready for the appearance of more mutineers at the sight of him.

He smiles ingenuously. "We thought you might need help. Not wanting to disturb you over the comm., I was elected to come and see to your assistance, Inspector." He shrugs. And he does it expansively. Easily. Having no intention of going anywhere anytime soon, I can see.

And then I know. I know what he's here for. What he wants. He is, no doubt, recording my actions now. Somewhere on him is an imager. Juryk would have ordered him to…looking for proof of his suspicions any way he could wrangle it. It would be his only option now, so far from our location still.

"_Kathryn_," comes from outside the door. Reminding me of the oaf's presence.

"I'm not letting him in," she growls at me. "You deal with me, or you deal with all of us."

I snarl. Whirling on her again. Feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on me. They're waiting for my reaction to her insolence. Her defiance. It must be this way. She – they – _none of them_ are leaving me any choice.

I move against her. Swiftly, effectively seizing her arm and working it expertly behind her back. Pulling her against me so she can feel my intent through her warm skin in contact with the heat of me. "_Choose_," I snarl again, swiftly catching her free arm, which moves to strike me. Deciding to call her bluff in this one instant that she has the audacity to look outraged at my anger…_wronged_ by it, somehow.

I will make her _prove_ to me now that she isn't lying again – as I know in my heart that she is. I note Brex and Jahal over at the door, where I'd sent them. At my nod, they melt back on either side of it. Playing ball, apparently.

The door mechanism makes a mechanical sound as the sensors register an attempt to open them.

"Kathryn, it's me – open up," the tattoed oaf calls from beyond the tritanium.

"This is your last chance, Captain." I command the computer to unlock the doors. Once again ignoring that murderous look in her eye as I continue to call her bluff. Staring back with menacing promise, and daring her not to comply with my deadly serious demand. "It's him or all of them. _Choose_," I order harshly. "Or I'll choose _for_ you."

She sees I'm serious this time. And makes her choice, just as I'd known she would.

I give her only enough time to bite out her invitation before swooping in on the opportunity her speech presents, ducking my head down to her open lips and closing my mouth firmly over hers, sealing her fate.

And my own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers**: See Prologue.

**Chapter One**

**(The Beginning...)**

_Eight weeks earlier_…

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

At first, I found them unremarkable. The ship was small: only fifteen decks, and not even all of them in full use. While they were advanced enough with regards to weaponry and shields, there was nothing revealed by long-range sensors that was so stellar as to pose a threat. Although the crew was mixed…and I shuddered at the thought of working alongside so many different _gaharay_ races…the vast majority of them were of a single foreign race…

My eye-ridges raised a fraction as I scanned Brek's report. They claimed to hail from, of all places, the Alpha Quadrant. _Very foreign, then_, I mused, close to disbelief. Why anyone would be compelled to travel so far from his people – from his _home _– escaped me. I couldn't fathom it.

But they were basic humanoids operating a science vessel. Those concepts I understood.

What I did _not_ understand, was how they had the audacity to enter our space without permission. Were they really so ignorant of Devoran dislike for trespassers, or were they just plain daft?

It was, perhaps, the only immediate point of interest to the little _gaharay_ vessel that I could find. By all standards of cost-benefit analysis, even acknowledging that I'd detected them wasn't worth the effort it would require to engage them. I should have let someone else scoop them up and take care of the tiny, insolent vessel.

Yet my teams were growing increasingly restless. And so was I.

It had been some time since one of our inspections had turned up any rogue telepaths. The Imperium had, of late, been adding subtle warnings to their weekly missives, hinting at our lack of recent results.

It never sat well with me, those relentless digs during slow times. If there were no refugees to find, it only meant that I was doing my job supremely well, didn't it? Those passing through our territory were simply too afraid of my thoroughness to risk harboring telepaths.

Not that we were without prospects. I'd long since had my suspicions regarding one of our regular merchants. The rare chemicals dealer, Grek, had been caught altering course a few too many times for my liking. _And_ there was the indisputable fact that his ship somehow always managed to pass within a hair's breadth of other suspected vessels…

His ship was perfect for concealing telepaths. The varied and sundry substances he transported rendered even the most comprehensive scans useless; his vessel often had to be searched the old-fashioned way, by hand. His presence at the last known appearance of the infamous Brenari wormhole solidified my vague suspicions into an absolute belief that Grek himself was the connection we'd been so desperately seeking between inexplicably vanishing ships and the lucrative refugee smuggling trade.

Grek, son of Norrak. Grek, a Devore. One of our own – a blood traitor.

It sickened me.

I had only to wait for the operative I'd placed aboard his vessel to send me final word that the Nerelli freighter had made the drop-off, and I'd take him. His ship already housed one group of refugees; I'd arranged to wait until he'd picked up the telepaths from the reptilian freighter before confiscating the whole lot of them. After all, the more telepaths detained at once, the better it would look on my record.

But most of the work had already been done for my next catch. All that was left to do now was to wait out the traitor; he'd be making his fatal mistake shortly enough.

The Imperium would be off my back soon, I knew; capturing a traitor is always favorably looked upon. It was little comfort, as I wasn't exactly worried for my career. Not with _my_ track record, anyway.

Putting Grek out of commission would almost be its own reward. If there's anything I despise more than telepaths, it's a Devoran blood traitor. We have trouble enough hunting down the telepaths without Grek's lot undermining our efforts at every turn. I looked forward to ridding my people of the particularly insidious cancer this sympathizer had so recently revealed himself to be…accolades notwithstanding, it _would_ be satisfying.

By tomorrow, I would have those telepaths hidden aboard the Nerelli freighter, and I would expose Grek, as well.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be enough to appease the First Commodore for long, I knew. It would buy me perhaps a few weeks of harassment-free communication with Devore Prime before the Imperium again grew restless and resumed hounding me. And in the meantime…

It _had_ become tiresome, hovering in space, awaiting new quarry. The work in exposing Grek had all been in the confirming that he was, in fact, a traitor. Setting him up to be ambushed, caught red-handed had been little more than child's play. I'm too talented at what I do to have exerted much effort in the attempt and he, as predicted, fell right into my simple deception.

And now this foolish little ship had poked its way into our borders. It would be lighting up the sensor net within hours. If my ships remained too long within alert range of the transmission, I would have to address them.

I should have ordered my pilots to turn about and head in the other direction. Taken the extra moments of peace and let the annoying little _gaharay_ transgressors be someone else's problem.

But, I was bored. Bored enough, I decided, to order Prax to send a cruiser to investigate against my better judgment…

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

She was coming around nicely by the time we'd reached Devore space.

_Finally_.

She and I hadn't been talking much in the weeks prior to reaching the Imperium – not on any significant social level. Aside from the quick, utilitarian working lunches or the occasional stolen coffee break I could arrange, she pretended she was too busy. Which, in all fairness, we really were. It was a plausible excuse.

But I knew better. I was still being punished for The Void. Specifically, for not letting her get herself _killed_ in The Void.

I was more than fine with that. As long as we still had her with us, she could punish me all she wanted. Hell, she could put me in the brig for the rest of the trip, for all I cared. I could have used the rest, to tell the truth. I was exhausted from constantly monitoring her sleeping habits, making sure she ate enough, and trying to get her to open up to someone. At some point after entering that desolate region of space, it had become a kind of obsession for me, observing her daily routine. Trying to keep track of her mental condition by virtue of her physical activity. It was difficult; she can be sneakier than hell when she wants to be. And she'd wanted to be then. Probably half out of spite.

Really – her depression aside – keeping Kathryn Janeway alive has always been more or less a full time job. Ordinary words like "reckless" and "fearless" don't even _begin_ to describe her attitude toward her own personal safety. Half the time I'm convinced she's downright suicidal…

It had still only been a few short months ago that I'd _seriously_ had to examine whether or not she might be.

For the first time in four years, Tuvok had agreed with me about something. He, too, had been worried about her self-imposed isolation those few months. He, too, had harbored strong suspicions concerning her erratic behavior. Then, there was the doctor. He'd almost too eagerly urged me to override her command codes and modify her replicators – ensuring that her access to potentially harmful chemicals was cut off. And when Tuvok not only readily supported this proposal, but advised the removal of any weapons from her quarters, too…

I was genuinely frightened for her. For all of us.

_Be honest, _my inner voice chided me. _Scared out of your mind is more like it…scared enough to brave her wrath, the effect on your friendship and working relationship, and agree to both conditions_.

I had been. At the time, we'd been scrambling for any way to resolve the situation before it got even more out of hand. We'd even considered threatening to relieve her of command to get her to crawl out of those quarters and talk – _really _talk – to one of us.

To be clear, we'd never really doubted her ability to command the ship. That, if nothing else, has been the one constant for her out here. Regardless of her poor regard for her own life at times, she does, has done, and probably always will do whatever she feels is necessary for _Voyager_. I may not always agree with her decisions, but I do have to admit they're always made with the best interests of the ship foremost in her mind.

That hadn't made the trip to her quarters any easier. It had done nothing to relieve the sting of having to stand firmly before my captain – my closest friend – and inform her of her decreased replicator function. Nothing could have alleviated the sheer discomfort of having to demand that she surrender any firearms concealed in her quarters…for her own safety.

"_You've got to be kidding." Those arctic-iced blue eyes, filled with contempt, zeroed in, drilling into me. When I only stood stock still, hands draped behind my back in stoic silence, she hissed out her disbelief in one short breath. "What's that supposed to accomplish, exactly?" she demanded. "You know I can walk up to any storage locker when you're not looking and grab myself another one. I can have a whole arsenal of the damned things in seconds if I really want them __–__ and there's no way for you or anyone else on this ship to stop me from doing it."_

"_You're right." I had to concede it with a tight nod of my head. "And I hope you try," I added sincerely. Standing my ground and holding that lethal gaze she was trying her best to freeze me alive with, hands going low on my hips and bracing myself for the fallout. Knowing it was necessary and hating that she'd made it that way. "Maybe, if you actually have to venture out of this little fortress you've strongholded yourself up in, you might actually have to talk to someone you run into!" _

"_Don't bet on that," she'd snapped back venomously._

_A deep blow, but not a lethal one. I took it head on. "Then I need the phaser, Kathryn."_

_I watched her draw herself to full alert then. Watched her find the energy, the effort from deep within the shell of apathy she'd maintained for weeks now. Probably the first time I'd seen it from her since we'd entered this void and she'd withdrawn to these__ spirit-forsaken rooms in the first place._

_Her expression hardened further as she sized me up, eyes blazing and tone biting warningly, "Are you relieving me of command?"_

_I studied her closely. Her eyes and her demeanor. Noted the level of clarity there, which hadn't been apparent in weeks, either. Kept my relief reigned in tightly. Making sure it didn't betray my previous uncertainty to be used against me as a tactical weakness. Knowing she wouldn't hesitate to do just that if she saw it. _

_And replied softly, "No." She started to relax a bit, and I followed up swiftly with, "Unless you'd like me to." I continued to watch her closely. Gauging the truthfulness of her response through the unexpected changeup. "Would you?" I pressed, tension tightening the muscles of my chest and back in anticipation of her reply._

_She'd stiffened again at the unexpected question, raising her eyes to stare at me. Burning blue orbs locking onto mine like lasers. _

"_I'd like to see you__ TRY," was her tight, incredulous response._

_And it relaxed me by the barest of fractions. Because her reaction to the idea was everything I'd needed it to be. _

"_I don't think it's necessary," I assured her. "Yet." I watched her stiffen to near corpse-like degree with a shudder I repressed completely. At least on the outside. "But it would be negligent of me, as your first officer and as your friend, to let you stay in here, silently brooding and possibly clinically depressed with active firearms within easy arm's reach__–__"_

"_I'm not depressed!" she hissed back. Incensed at the mere suggestion of it __–__ again. "This has nothing to do with that!"_

"_If you're not, then you're doing a damned good impression of it," I retorted __–__ as calmly as I possibly could. Like her, tired of the same argument in which we'd been getting nowhere for the past three weeks. "We'd be able to confirm that you're not if you'd let the doctor take a look at you, but you won't. So I'm telling you again, Kathryn. I need the phaser."_

_She opened her mouth at that. Caught herself just in time and closed it. _

_In the end, she didn't reply, and I recognized what she was doing then. She'd already made the last argument she was going to afford me over this. Was through with treating my presence as anything more than a nuisance. One she wasn't going to deign to hold any civilized conversation with anymore. Her face went entirely blank, only her hard eyes generating that intense frosty chill she still managed to blast my way as she turned on her heel, headed to the bedroom, and returned with the weapon in question dangling between her fingertips as she held it out in front of her. Eyes never leaving mine as she openly dared me to take it. _

_Making sure I knew exactly the kind of betrayal she was perceiving this as._

_I hesitated in spite of myself. Softening, and seeing this from her perspective the way I'd steeled myself NOT __to when I'd walked in here tonight. Wanting like hell for this to somehow turn out as anything other than the unraveling of our friendship, of the trust we'd built between us that she'd make of it in her current mindset._

_And swallowed. "Will you at least TALK to someone?" I tried. One last time, extending the olive branch she'd been continually shoving right back in my face for weeks now. "Please?"_

_I held my breath as she continued to hold the phaser out, one eyebrow rising slowly as she studied me. Considering my request, and whether or not it was worth it to respond. _

_But something in my expression…probably some weakness I wasn't even aware was showing…had her deciding to press her advantage, instead. _

"_There's nothing to talk about, Commander. We've already discussed this, and we don't agree on it. There's no point in discussing it any further; I'm not prepared to waste the effort." My eyes narrowed sharply at that last bit. Just as she'd meant them to. "And I'm certainly not going to stand here and discuss it at the threat of what amounts to nothing more than blackmail."_

_Damn it, Kathryn_, _I couldn't help thinking. She knew exactly how to get my hackles raised, too. And she wasn't going to give a centimeter, I saw then. Not so much as a half a centimeter, even. _

_Which, ironically, probably should have encouraged me._

_It didn't. I took the phaser. Hardening myself, remembering the level of concern that had brought us here to this standoff and seeing no indication from her that she was willing to even try to work with us. Ignoring the flash of bitter betrayal that flared in her eyes__,__ I tucked the weapon into my belt and pretended that flash wasn't the lethal cut to my core that she'd intended it to be._

"_Fine," I allowed quietly. Resolutely. "It's your choice." My eyes flickered to the desk. "But I'll need the other one, too."_

It was in that moment that the ice melted clear away, and sparks had shot out of her eyes at me. How I didn't physically catch on fire under the heat of _that_ look, I'll probably never know. She kept it pinned on me, that glare, her head turned always towards me even as she eventually stalked over to the desk and slowly, deliberately took out the other phaser she had stored in the top drawer…

Spirits of my ancestors, I'll never forget the look in her eyes. I'd done what was prudent, given the situation, and I'd held my ground against her the way I'd needed to for her safety. For all of us. But I'm also not ashamed to admit it still makes me shudder to think of the way her eyes practically cut into my skull, so narrowed they were hardly slits…slits of enraged contempt…and for nearly a week thereafter, virtually every comment she addressed my way ended in some scathing version of "That is, of course, if you think I can be _trusted_ to…"

Even when it had nothing to do with the context of the conversation whatsoever, she still managed to work it in, somehow, and the looks she gave me…

Let's just say that turned out to be a pretty _bad_ week for me. I'd hated it. Every second of it. But we weren't taking any chances with her. Not in that mood, not with her behavior the way it had been for weeks now, with no sign of improvement whatsoever. It wasn't responsible of us, as her officers, or her friends, to do anything less. If it had rented our friendship, our deep personal connection in two in the process – if that was the way she wanted to interpret my deep concern over her condition – so be it. I'd made my choice. I'd done what I felt I had to, and I would live with that.

What kills me is that she thinks I don't understand. She thinks I don't know exactly how much she sacrifices for us, that I don't know how she gives and gives and gives: her sweat, her blood, her tears…hell, her soul. She gives until there isn't a drop left – and then somehow manages to dig in and give more. She ignores her personal needs, ignores her own pain at every turn. Sometimes, I think she relishes in doing it. In punishing herself for what she thinks was her error in judgment for bringing us here. Either way, the end result is the same. She wears herself down, slowly and irreparably. The rest of us, the ship always her main concern.

She feels it's her duty. She doesn't know _how_ to do any less.

She thinks she's alone in this. She isn't. For Kathryn it's the ship, the crew.

For me, it's Kathryn. That's just the way it is, and no amount of denial on my part seems able to change that about us.

I might have tried in recent months to back away, to find myself again in all this mess…especially after our nasty disagreement over the Borg back when Seven of Nine first came aboard…but I always came back to her. Came back to living for her more than for anyone else.

She was a habit I just couldn't break, and I'd started to wonder how hard I was even really trying to anymore. Or whether I'd been lying to myself all along…about whether I _liked_ what it did to me when I gave any serious thought to how I felt about her. I had to wonder if I actually _liked_ the intense, heart–shredding pain of keeping that flame burning in the deep recesses of my consciousness. If I somehow got a perverse enjoyment out of how much frustration was involved in kindling that flickering flame on deeper, less acknowledged levels. Even knowing there wasn't anything more than friendship to be had for us out here… Not the way I'd have ideally wanted there to be. _Used_ to have wanted there to be, at least…those earlier days of hoping, wondering…were over. Obviously.

But when the ship came under attack from the species native to the Void, she finally left those quarters of hers, and I had high hopes that everything was back to normal. Normal for us, that is…normal for her.

It wasn't.

She resumed her normal schedule: taking shifts on the bridge, meeting with department heads, and taking occasional reluctant meals in the mess hall. But the rest of her recovery was painstakingly slow. She actually tried to get me to let her _stay _in that place – _alone! _

I knew then she had a ways to go before her judgment could be considered sound, at least with regards to herself.

Which meant I continued to monitor her replicator usage, her whereabouts and sleeping habits, as well as her holodeck usage…or lack thereof. And whenever I found one of them faltering, I did my utmost to arrange, manipulate, or plain cajole her into more healthy and social behaviors. Digging my heels in and shoving back at her with everything in my own arsenal to keep her from backsliding into that abyss I hadn't known how to pull her out of the first time. After several weeks, she grudgingly began to take the hints and seemed, miraculously, to blossom again.

She still refused to talk about it. Beyond those few, bitter statements made to me in her quarters that last night before the incident with the Malon, she would entertain no further discussion about her overwhelming sense of guilt.

And, nearing collapse myself after pulling her back from the edge, I finally had to give up on trying to make her.

She seemed to have snapped out of it, at least. There was her particularly harsh disciplining of Tom but, frankly, she was well within her rights to imprison him permanently; he'd not only willfully disobeyed orders but single-handedly taken it upon himself to violate the Prime Directive by blowing up that underwater refinery.

It was within her rights, yes. It just wasn't characteristic of her to be so…strong-armed about meting out punishment. And there had been B'Elanna.

Hell. _B'Elanna._

_Both_ of them had almost slipped by me, despite my best efforts to pull them out of the rip tides they'd been caught up in. B'Elanna at least had Tom to see her through the worst of it, yes. But she'd needed me, too. I was her oldest friend onboard. Her closest one, discounting Tom. I should have _seen_ it, damn it. _How_ had I missed that? I couldn't help but wonder whether, if I hadn't been so worried about Kathryn still, I might have caught B'Elanna sinking under the surface earlier than I did.

We'd never know now. I was just glad we'd caught both of them before losing one of them in the end. But now that Kathryn had used Moset's research to save B'Elanna…with my blessing, although it hadn't been my decision…she and Kathryn…were not on good terms. _No one_ and Kathryn seemed to be on particularly good terms, lately, but B'Elanna was decidedly worse with handling her resentment. I knew I should probably have pulled her aside. Tried to work on her end of the equation, since Kathryn was a stubborn stone wall of "I did what I had to do, and she'll get over it – or not."

I let it go. Frankly, it was the easier thing to do – I was beyond exhaustion by the time we reached Devore space.

Idle speculations about Kathryn, about B'Elanna, and their tenuous relationship with each other had to be shoved aside upon approaching Devore space. The lives of our telepathic crewmen depended upon the undivided attention of _Voyager's_ officers, myself included.

I had _strong_ misgivings about entering a region of space so xenophobic, so brutal and lethal in their hatred of telepaths. I voiced them to her, several times. Argued that taking the longer two years circumventing the dark territory would be worth it – especially in exchange for not attempting to smuggle our telepathic crewmen through a region that they would be killed simply for being discovered in.

But to Kathryn it was almost a challenge. One she was insistent, assured and completely confident that she could surmount. She was adamant that she – we – could do this.

Eventually, she persuaded me. Not that she had to because it's ultimately her decision, but I fell into line behind her confidence. In the end, I supported her decision. We would make the best of it now that it had been made.

And distraction from her isolation had always proved stimulating for Kathryn. This instance was no different. We began to see even more of her, and it furthered my opinion that she was much improved…that we'd made the correct decision.

As for me personally, I found myself glad to be forced to focus on something besides her for a change.

First contact with the Imperium occurred within four hours of entering Devore space. Communication was established through one irate, altogether unimpressive Lieutenant Brek. Brek showed no indication that he possessed any particular intelligence to speak of. _A foot soldier_, I remember thinking at first glance. _Not officer-level material_. Not by Starfleet standards anyway. All in all, he had posed very little threat to us.

Short and decidedly unpleasant, he demanded an immediate explanation for our trespass.

It had been a calculated move on our part. What background information we'd gathered from local, independent sources indicated that a request for passage through Devore territory was as likely to be denied as not. Upon weighing the risks, we'd decided that having one foot already in the door couldn't hurt our chances much. As it turned out, we made the right decision.

The captain assured Brek that we had no hostile intent…and no telepaths. His response was to gather a twenty-man team and board _Voyager_ immediately, something we allowed with little trepidation. With our phaser banks alone, we outgunned the tiny border patrol vessel. We'd also detected the little ship within plenty of time to conceal Tuvok, Vorik, and Jurot in Shuttle Bay Two using the thoron generator to mask their life signs.

"An old Maquis trick, maybe," I'd quipped at Kathryn's raised eyebrow at the suggestion, "but new to the Devore."

Her slow, appreciative smile had knocked me off kilter for the remainder of that staff briefing. But then…that was probably just because it had been a _long_ while since I'd seen it.

Brek's men made a huge show of verbally harassing the crew, rummaging through the crew quarters, and tossing aside various Jeffries tube hatches to scan the interior passageways. Those hatches that we'd locked – to divert their attention from sensitive areas like Engineering or the bridge controls – the lieutenant promptly blasted through with high-energy discharge weapons. Ruining the locking mechanisms beyond repair.

"Pure spite," Kathryn muttered furiously under her breath, wincing at the rough treatment of her precious ship's hardware.

We observed the rampant destruction from the lower deck of the bridge, where we'd been ordered – at weapons' point – to congregate. Our repeated assurances that we would happily unlock the hatches went entirely unacknowledged by Brek's soldiers.

Having grown tired of prowling over our ship and generally wreaking unwarranted havoc with it, Brek eventually returned to the bridge, where he gruffly and unceremoniously demanded that Kathryn and I accompany him back to his cruiser. There, he explained, we would await the Imperium's official ruling on _Voyager's_ request for continued passage through Devore space…or we would remain incarcerated for violating their sovereignty.

He was unimpressed with the captain's heartfelt apology for our "unintentional intrusion".

Considering his "proposal", Kathryn shot me a meaningful look, a silent request for my recommendation, and rolled her eyes behind the irritating man's back. She managed to make me bite my lip to keep from smiling. _Finally,_ I thought. _Finally a bit of ground._ That it hadn't been forced, but natural, was telling. _Maybe she's making more progress recently than I've given her credit for. Maybe WE'RE making progress…_

I lifted my eyebrows, shrugging gamely. _Why not?_

Satisfied, she turned to glance meaningfully in Tom's direction, indicating that he should take the bridge pending our return. His slight nod went unnoticed by Brek's soldiers.

I felt the tension lighten at her cool reaction to the blustering Lieutenant Brek and his harsh handling of _Voyager's_ equipment. This was the Kathryn we – Tuvok, the doctor, and I – had been hoping would make more of an appearance.

"Who knows," I'd whispered discretely into her ear, following her into the turbolift at the soldiers' insistence. "If we keep the lieutenant happy, he may even put in a good word for us."

Considering how hard it seemed to be for him just to refrain from spitting in our faces, that was about the last thing in the cosmos likely to happen, and we both knew it. It was her turn to hide a smirk from the Devoran lieutenant's expressionless eyes. She extracted her revenge beautifully, shifting in place and "accidentally" elbowing me in the ribs. Again, I was forced to clamp down on my lower lip, this time to suppress a groan. The pain was welcome.

_Definitely the Kathryn I've missed lately. _

_Her scent hasn't changed_, I noted for perhaps the tenth time that week, as her movement and our close quarters inside the turbolift allowed me to catch the familiar, faintly flowered aroma of her herbal shampoo. I still didn't know what it was, even after all these years…honeysuckle and roses? Something like that. _I'll have to ask her the next time we have dinner. _Those had been making a slow reappearance in our weekly schedule, as well.

Brek was abrasive, brusque, and even rude…despite her best efforts to soothe and humor him with polished – I thought so, anyway – diplomacy. Instead, the captain's attempts to charm her way into his good graces were met with cold, dismissive indifference. At one point along our journey from the transporter room of his small ship to the secure section where we were to be housed, Brek actually turned to her and snapped, "You will hold your tongue for the duration of your incarceration, _gaharay_; I have no patience for your incessant _banter_."

I was annoyed with his lack of respect for her, suspecting the unfamiliar term meant something particularly vile. But the captain took it well, lapsing immediately into an agreeable silence. She can swallow her pride admirably in the face of ship's interests.

"Sorry," she deadpanned, as soon as the heavy doors clanged shut behind him, leaving us alone in a poorly-lit chamber with no furniture. "Looks like I just ruined our chances at that glowing recommendation you were gunning for."

Then, her almost sheepish half-grin was the only encouragement I needed to let go and _really_ laugh with her. It wasn't that funny, and we both knew it, but we'd needed it. The release of tension. More tension than I'd even been able to acknowledge was released inside of me in that moment.

I'd missed joking with her, missed her wry sense of humor. Missed it much more than I'd realized.

We weren't in any real danger; if the Imperium denied our request and tried to keep us detained, _Voyager_ would have no trouble extracting us and outrunning the patrol cruiser. And we both trusted Tom to do just that should additional Devore vessels have shown up on sensors.

We passed the time amiably. By silent agreement, we discussed neither ship's business nor the telepaths hiding in _Voyager's_ shuttle bay. We both knew it was highly likely our conversation was being monitored, at least on some level. And we also knew the name of the game was waiting, and that patience was going to serve us best in this scenario.

Kathryn and I were kept waiting in the tiny room for six hours before, finally, the lieutenant reappeared. And we knew instantly, from the dour expression on his ridged face, that our request had been granted.

Scowling, the unpleasant Brek thrust a small PADD of sorts in my direction. "Your approved course. You will enter the coordinates into your navigational array. Do not stray from the designated route for any reason. You will not use your transporters, shuttles, or holodecks." Kathryn's eyebrow rose at that, but she didn't interrupt. "You will not conduct any intensive scans with your sensors while within one light-year of any populated planet, space station or communications array, nor will you engage in communication with non-Devoran ships. You will also submit to periodic inspections of your vessel at random intervals chosen by our inspection teams. Noncompliance with these or any other directives is unacceptable and will be met with immediate and strict reprisal."

He paused, finally, I assumed to take a breath, and looked her up and down rather derisively, before sneering, "I trust even _you_ can handle such simple concepts, Captain?"

The contempt in his voice, in his leer, was unmistakable. Something in his eyes, in his manner set off some primitive chord in me, and that time, I did glower menacingly, the lack of proper rest finally manifesting itself in the form of my shortened temper. How much more was I going to permit her to be so thoroughly disrespected in my presence?

Yet at the slight feel of her hand brushing against my back, I held my tongue.

For her, I did.

As we materialized on the transporter pad in Transporter Room One, I thought I'd rarely been so glad to see the back of someone before. But I turned to her on our way out, holding her back with a light touch on her shoulder. Gave her a small, appreciative smile and nodded slightly as her questioning eyes flickered up to me. "You were right," I admitted softly, so that only she would hear. "We can do this."

Her answering smile was softer than anything I'd been graced with in months. She nodded her acceptance of my admission. Appreciative of my support and reassurance. It was even enough to bolster the budding growth of healing between us, I hoped.

At any rate, we were soon after on our way through Devore space, and Brek soon became a distant, if unpleasant, memory.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

They allowed the boarding party, and I began to lose what little curiosity they'd piqued to begin with. I'd sent the smaller patrol vessel to tempt them into _resistance_, not _compliance. _

It annoyed me. I'd wanted entertainment, something to do, not…more _paperwork,_ for Gods' sake!

But Brek followed orders and, after a rudimentary poking about of the ship, he selected the two highest-ranking officers for detainment in his observation room. There, I could observe the interaction between _Voyager's_ captain and first officer at my leisure.

Prax hates it when I do this. My curiosity regarding new species, admittedly perverse, disgusts him. If he had his way, we'd blast every _gaharay_ into oblivion at first sighting. I understand his abhorrence: what Devoran wouldn't? Strange aliens are, for the most part, inferior, dirty, and backward creatures.

But they are _interesting_. It's fascinating to study them as subjects, to note the glaring differences and similarities between our cultures.

It helps me to do my job. He has come, I believe, to understand this last part over time. It is this fact which prompts him to overlook my peculiarities and indulge my whims (mostly) without question; he has been forced to acknowledge the proven effectiveness of my technique. I do, after all, boast the best record in the Imperium for apprehending telepaths – and Devoran traitors – alike. I have what the Emperor himself once termed "an uncanny knack" for ferreting out that which is concealed.

It is because I take the time to study my enemy. To understand your opponent…_truly_ understand him…is to ensure your victory over him. Again, it is for this reason that Prax indulges me. Well. That, and the reality that, should he disobey me, he knows I will gut him myself.

While waiting for the desired observation period to transpire, I continued to review Brek's report, cataloging its contents. A crew of roughly one hundred and fifty, bipedal, humanoids… I heaved a heavy inward sigh, reading nothing note-worthy for some few long minutes. Brek, as expected, interspersed each tidbit of information with obviously placed recommendations to confiscate the vessel at once, as per Imperial regulations.

I snorted. Such blatant lack of subtlety, such crudely constructed, futile ploys to advance his career. Anyone would see through him. _It's no small wonder he's still a border patrolman._

I glanced back up to the larger view screen and away from my personal viewer, which always alternates between hidden recorders on each of the rooms of my ship. It does not do to blindly trust those who serve you, I'm afraid: caution is always prudent.

Leaning forward, I thought I could detect a hint of shock on Prax's face, also, as we peered together into the moderately sized view screen of my bridge. The image Brek's communications link projected was of a tiny, (by our standards) ridge-less woman, and a moderately sized (again, by Devoran standards), equally ridge-less form…male. Ah.

I assumed then that these were examples of the dominant race, the humans, but_ a female? At command level? _

Sharp curiosity moved me to take more notice. Pausing to transmit a terse demand for a clearer signal, I resumed my inspection of Brek's transmissions, with much more vigor this time.

The next report from Brek arrived, just as the pair left the screen, presumably while some tech fiddled with the controls. The file consisted mostly of more pointless reiteration of Imperial philosophy. Just as I was getting frustrated enough to consider suggesting that the Imperium review the regulations for formatting patrol reports, a fragment jumped out at me:

..._as such, the individual in charge is female, one human by the name of Kathryn Janeway, carrying the title of "captain"… _

I fell back against my chair, surprised. _The woman is the CAPTAIN._

Glancing downward to Prax's station – below on the crew deck – I watched him digest the report also. His hard eyes cut swiftly to the view screen, a scowl…well, a larger scowl…lining his full face. I could see he was disgusted, which only reinforced my mildly stirring desire to investigate these _gaharay_ further.

_A woman in charge of a ship like this_? I scanned the report of the rest of the crew, expecting perhaps to find that they were all female but, no, there were males as well! _Interesting_, I thought. Not unheard of, again, but highly unusual. I wondered if these humans operated within a matriarchal society, but as I read on I could see this was not strictly the case:

..._one human male, Harry Kim, carrying the title "Head of Operations"... ... one human male, Chakotay, carrying the title "Second in Command"…_

Interesting indeed.

I'd encountered this phenomenon before, but it's rare. _We_ certainly don't allow it, nor do the Brenari or even most of the other races in the sector, for that matter… It was unnerving. _What kind of women do these strangers breed that they are comfortable giving those women command of a starship? And what kind of men, that they follow women?_

Pondering these questions, I was instinctively wary of the idea, as I had been before on those few occasions I'd met alien women in command positions.

I brightened, though, sitting straighter in my chair than I had in weeks. _Considering that the captain's a woman, it stands to reason a good portion of her crew will be as well. _

My men would certainly enjoy a bit of female company,I mused. And they'd worked diligently for me over the past year: our record of telepath apprehension nearly triples Juryk's, my closest competitor. I didn't think I could begrudge my soldiers their fun. _They've earned a little distraction. Come to think of it_, I revised, my eyes narrowing with more than a little anticipation, _so have I. _

From the little I'd seen of the human form thus far, I couldn't have called it strictly unattractive.

Devoran inspection teams are often on deep space assignment for years at a time. Ours was entering its third cycle, and our women do not travel, as a rule. None of them would want to, which isn't hard to blame them for. But it did make things…uncomfortable with regard to long-term missions. So the prospect of being in a position to provide my men with potential fractions, perhaps intervals or phases of entertainment, especially after a rather dry few phases, was tempting.

Officially, it's frowned upon. Unofficially, it's overlooked and even discretely encouraged at the highest levels of government. Many _gaharay_ races value the sanctity of their women's bodies so highly. We've found it an excellent tool for demoralizing – and deterring potential – transgressors.

I've been known to partake myself on not-so-rare occasions. I am not so fundamentalist that I would deny myself the quick, primal pleasure their bodies offer in the cold darkness of open space…once they've been thoroughly sterilized, and deloused of the filth and contaminants so many of these _gaharay_ live amongst, of course.

But protocol was still observed. Most important, was to ensure they were _not_ telepaths. Scanning the report, I noted that Brek had already done so; they revealed no telepathic abilities or tendencies, latent or otherwise.

Too, we are not without honor. It's considered bad form to take _gaharay_ women without just cause. And, though violating our space was, in principle, cause enough, I knew it would be viewed poorly by the high command to use this potentially innocent mistake to confiscate an entire vessel…a vessel absent of telepaths. Particularly when they posed such little threat, on the surface.

Not that they'd object. It would just seem like a desperate attempt to appease the first commodore by bolstering my record with an easy acquisition, and I preferred not to make such coarse-looking moves. I'd find something to justify it. I always do.

Encouraged by my most recent train of thought, I hoped for more detail from the files constantly uploading into our computer's main processor, but was bombarded instead with details of the ship's physical layout. They bored me, for the most part.

The technical specifications _did _catch my eye, in a sudden burst of illumination. _Borg technology? This ship is equipped with BORG-ENHANCED_ _technology? _

Perhaps they were not so worthless after all. It was an interesting concept, and something I'd not seen in all my time of space travel. These humans had somehow _stolen technology from the Borg_. Perhaps it would be a point of interest, would be something I could confiscate. It might be worth further investigation to see if it could be made compatible with our own technology–

_The hell with that. If they're a science vessel capable of modifying Borg technology, advanced enough to not only find the technology, but to blend it into their own systems…what else might they be able to figure out, if properly motivated? _

A delicious thought stirred within me, quickening my pulse and all concerns about women, _gaharay_ or otherwise, were swept from my consciousness as I dared to entertain the notion I rarely allowed myself to get my hopes up over lightly.

_Could _they?

Was it possible? Was this, finally, the vessel I'd been so urgently seeking throughout the latter half of my career?

_Surely, if anyone can find it, a ship enhanced with Borg technology can! _

Quelling my rousing excitement took great control. It wouldn't do to get carried away without knowing more about the ship and its inhabitants. Yet the mere idea that I might be the one to at last cut to the source of the telepath threat so persistently plaguing my people…it was undeniably seductive. Much more so than the thought of a few moments of sordid and sweaty physical release.

Every Devoran inspector dreamed of this one thing above all else. It was what the _Imperial Council_ desired above all else. Finding the Brenari wormhole – managing to destroy it, once and for all – would be the stuff legends were made of. And, as for the man who managed it…

Nothing – _nothing _– would be unattainable for that man again. He'd be an idol among our people.

He'd be a god.

I shivered slightly, wondering if I was really on the verge of the greatest Devoran victory of the century, or if I was getting carried away in the heat of the moment. Time would tell.

Their pictures reformed, shimmered, and then solidified before my admittedly curious eyes. She was still impossible to scrutinize closely, I found, studying her grainy image. Though she seemed rather…I don't know what word I was really searching for…refined? For some reason, the women commanders I remembered from past experiences had all been old, too old, perhaps, to bother with the little niceties of interactive society. They'd seemed, to my memory, unkempt. She appeared…well…_groomed_, from what I could see. The human species presented an image of couth I found myself warming to…

But she was rather difficult to observe closely; the picture was too poor a quality. _I could be making this up for all of the detail I can REALLY make out, _I had to admit.

The sound, though, was excellent. I ordered Prax to turn up the volume, hoping for some damning piece of conversation to warrant my stepping in personally. I wanted to investigate this species further; I needed to gauge their level of scientific prowess. Too, I wanted to meet this strange captain and assess her for myself.

We listened to the conversation. At first, it revealed nothing save for two simple, feeble-minded officers passing the time in idle conversation, and my hopes to use these strangers to locate the wormhole shriveled.

But as the talking continued, I noted the careful gestures and signs regularly passing between the pair, and I understood then. Their mindless exchange was evidence, not of stupidity, but of intelligence. They seemed to have deduced, somehow, that they were being monitored.

I frowned. _But why the caution? Why go the effort unless…they have something to hide?_

It meant nothing, of course, was evidence of no wrong doing. _Perhaps they are merely exercising a prudent reserve before an unknown threat. _It was what I would do. Still, I knew I would be scouring their ship with extra scrutiny…

I paid more attention to the screen, genuinely interested in the two not, for first time, as examples of some entertaining novelty or even as tools to achieve my own ends, but as potential candidates for engaging opponents. For me to come across a truly stimulating adversary was a thing very rare. Few have proven able to match me for sheer cunning, strategy or shrewd intellect.

Ignoring the rapidly increasing frequency of the annoyed looks shooting my way from Prax's direction, I honed in on the words exchanged between them almost eagerly. The conversation was banal. But comfortable. Much less rigid than a conversation between Prax and I would be. My eyes, narrowed as I considered that. _They're on a familiar basis, then_. It would make a sort of sense, I supposed. Perhaps the two were mates. _Perhaps_ _that's why she's allowed to command; perhaps he is the one wielding the true power here_…

It wasn't so. Comfort level aside, the man still managed to treat her with more than respect. He listened to her, deferred to her. At times, from what I could gather watching the unsteady image, he almost seemed to quietly worship her. I wondered fleetingly if, maybe, she was born to the position, rather like royalty. "_Voyager"_, she called the ship. Something tickled the back of my brain, insistent. _I've heard that name before. And her name sounds familiar as well…_

It did not come to me.

My fingers moved restlessly over my armrest, across the controls there. I'd already granted their request for passage through our space. Now, I needed something to hold over them. Something to enable me to retain the upper hand…to wriggle them, undeniably, into a stranglehold.

The answer struck me at once: the Nerelli freighter. The telepaths. A blinding stroke of genius, on my part, if they'd take the bait… _Because women of any species tend to be more sympathetic than men, don't they? Surely this Kathryn Janeway will be moved to intervene if properly tempted…_

I would soon find out.

"Prax," I bellowed, breaking the silence over the command center and impressed with my own brilliance. He regarded me steadily, with the same expectant expression he has used for the last eight years. "The Nerelli freighter we're scheduled to inspect tomorrow? The one concealing the family of telepaths on their way to the rendezvous?"

"Yes, sir?" he prompted, knowing this is what I am comfortable with from him.

"Delay our arrival."

"_Sir_?" he repeated, in a very different tone.

It's a tone he knows I hate. Why he would use it now, though, hadn't escaped me. Prax _is_ one of the fundamentalists; he despises my habit of consorting with _gaharay_ women. At times, I must say I agree with him. It _is_ disgusting when you stop to think about it. But I had other, more pressing concerns regarding the _gaharay_ ship, besides the vague notion that the crew of _Voyager_ might, in the end, provide some much needed relief to me and to my men.

And his presumption – the presumption that I would simply overlook an entire party of telepaths in order to chase after some fleeting physical diversion – annoyed me.

I fixed him with a deceptively mild stare, knowing my superior authority would cow him, as always. It did. He looked away reluctantly, and I didn't bother to conceal the smirk stretching my lips. "I want you to send Brek an approved course that'll take the _gaharay_ vessel _Voyager_ within…say…two light years of that ship. And compose a message to the freighter, to be sent by our operative aboard the transport vessel. Tell them the rendezvous coordinates have been altered…"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

"We agreed to transport the refugees to these coordinates – and no further!"

Staring into the view screen, I rubbed the bridge of my nose, barely aware of having done so. _Coffee. Good GOD, I need coffee._

It was 0345, and as I'd been summoned to the bridge from my warm bed after barely twenty minutes of sleep, I was entirely prepared to _beg_ if the end result would be a hot, steaming cup of coffee. But in the meantime, I had three telepaths hiding in Cargo Bay One behind antimatter waste containers, and I was fairly certain those crewmembers would appreciate my getting to the bottom of this strange distress call _before_ indulging in my addiction.

"Please, Captain." An older man, clearly not of the same reptilian species as the freighter's crew, stepped timidly into view. He was haggard. "If I may…?" Appearing tired as well, the slightly balding, very human-looking alien clasped his hands in a frank gesture of desperation.

His dirty, bruised face told me all I needed to know regarding the Nerelli treatment of their telepathic passengers. My automatic distaste for the freighter captain's abusive nature had to be forcefully quelled.

_Easy, Kathryn. Keep your cool._

Instead of reacting to the obvious maltreatment, I forced my focus to train solely on the new speaker.

Haas, the Nerelli captain, had other ideas. He visibly sneered with contempt at the smaller man, the captain's apple-green, pointy-scaled hands thoughtlessly seizing the telepath's shoulders to shove him back from the view screen. When Haas spoke again, he addressed his comments to me and not to his charge, and I was more than slightly annoyed by his unnecessary rudeness.

"Captain," Haas began, and his oily tone was meant to pass for something like charm, if I wasn't mistaken.

I hoped I was mistaken – the result was repulsive, at best.

"We were paid to deliver these…_transients_…this far and no further. We have done our part. The transport vessel they seek is not here. Instead, they send us a message ordering us to meet them some twenty light years in the opposite direction!" Haas paused, looking me over, furtively gauging my reaction. When I gave none, his face seemed to flatten and he elaborated, "_Deeper_ into Devore space. I will not risk it!"

The slow burn of my anger had rapidly reached a simmering plateau, making it difficult to respond to Haas with any civility. I desperately needed the following few seconds of silence to calm myself. If my first officer had been beside me on the bridge, he would have interjected at precisely this juncture, I knew, saving me the trouble of having to come up with a diplomatic response to Haas's…_dilemma…_and allowing me precious time to collect my thoughts…

_Damn, you've been spoiled, haven't you? _

Before I was called upon to – _to what, intervene? mediate?_ – the telepathic passenger surprised me by defending himself.

"You were _paid_," he interjected quietly yet firmly, letting me know just what this mild-mannered man was made of beneath the meek exterior, "for four weeks' passage. It has only been two."

_Good for you. _I couldn't help cheering him on, however silently. _Don't let him walk all over you_…

"Captain," a softly insistent voice beckoned from over my left shoulder.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." My even gaze never wavered and I turned from the confrontation before me, somewhat grateful for the interruption, yet annoyed at Kim's breach of etiquette. Eyebrow raised slightly in a warning I knew he wouldn't mistake, I met the urgent eyes of my operations officer. "What is it, Harry?" _It had better be something good… _

Ensign Eager – I nearly choked, right in the middle of the tense exchange but managed to catch myself in time and – _ohh, damn you, Chakotay, you're going to pay for that! _

Ensign _Kim_ delivered by far the worst news I'd had in weeks. "Two Devoran warships just popped up on long-range sensors. They're headed right for us."

_Perfect, _I thought. _Absolutely perfect. _It floated through my unorganized thoughts that perhaps I was still sleeping, that maybe I had yet to really awaken from my peaceful slumber…because this already had the makings of a fantastic nightmare.

Right on cue, Haas piped up, and he'd shed all pretense of diplomacy, his reptilian features hardening noticeably. "Either take them or don't, Janeway, but these telepaths are leaving my ship _now._"

My heart sank as I took in his meaning.

_TAKE them? Oh, no. _It was all I could do to stop my head from shaking vigorously back in forth, to fight the widening of my eyes. _No, no, no, no, no… _

The forlorn, weary telepath's demeanor flooded with urgency as two Nerelli marched up to the flight deck of the modest freighter, weapons drawn menacingly.

"Please. Captain Janeway," he began desperately. "I know what I'm asking of you is dangerous and that you have no reason to put yourself at risk for strangers. But we have no other hope. I…you can have any compensation you desire–"

"Bah! He has nothing! These Brenari are worse than poor." Haas's jeering was truly testing my patience, while the Brenari's pleas were tearing at my heartstrings…

_Kathryn Janeway _– _NO. Absolutely not! You CANNOT give them safe passage through Devore space! _

I knew it, too.

_It would be a clear violation of the Prime Directive for you to interfere in this conflict. You will NOT plunge your ship into the middle of this nightmare. _

I wanted nothing more than to cut him off, before he made my required refusal any harder than it already would be.

But I'm no coward. If I had to condemn this man to certain death, the least I could do was to hear him out first_. _To look him in the eyes while I refused him. I steeled myself – _yes, indeed, keep telling yourself that, Captain _– to deny this man life-saving refuge aboard my vessel.

"Please," he was repeating, his desperation growing. Primal fear evident in every cell of his body. "Anything I have is yours. Anything at all. Just – there are four children with us!"

Oh, hell. Wonderful. Just…_wonderful. Of course. Of COURSE he has children with him. If you weren't done in before, you are now. _

"Please, they're only children…!"

_Oh, God help me, _I thought. Angry at the way the universe knew just what buttons to push with me. And my throat felt drier than usual, was begging me for coffee at this point.

Because I was finished. And I knew it. Through the headache, the monumental stress, exhaustion and worry for my own ship and crew…I was done in.

_Yep. Adhering to the Prime Directive has just, once again, become nothing more than a pipe dream. _

Hell. It was par for the course by now, anyway.

"If you could just take them…" the poor man was pleading.

"And separate them from their parents?" Archly, I couldn't resist the subtle dig, "That may be Captain Haas's style, but it most certainly isn't mine, sir."

Haas's face flattened, but there was no time to savor the effects of my small slight. I could see the Brenari passenger misinterpreted my meaning by the way his gentle face collapsed into an expression of utter defeat. But before I could open my mouth to explain further, more Nerelli spilled out from the edges of the room and onto the view screen. None too carefully, they herded the remaining eleven Brenari to group beside their representative. And – as he'd claimed – four of the dirty, bedraggled figures were children, the eldest hardly more than six or seven years old. _Earth years, anyway. _To top it all off, as though the universe was truly intent upon taunting me, there was a girl who, but for the darker hair and absence of four tiny horns, could have been Naomi Wildman.

The unfortunate…_leader? father?_…of the telepaths returned his beseeching gaze to me. I watched in macabre fascination as his arms automatically stretched out, enfolding the girl in a protective embrace I wasn't even sure he was aware of creating.

He was openly begging now. "Please, Captain. Just the children? If you knew what Devoran detention centers are like…"

_Oh, but I do, thanks to the Imperium's notorious reputation. Hardly a race within fifty light years of their borders can talk about anything else. _

"They're death camps," he spat. His deep fear evident through his disgust. "Young children can't work. They're considered useless. They're locked into large cargo holds and left to die of starvation."

At first, I felt the heat of anger warming my cheeks. _Does he have to speak so bluntly in front of the children? _

And then it occurred to my sluggish brain that these were _telepaths._ Whatever the parents knew, presumably, the children would already manifest an awareness of that knowledge as well, whether or not the words were spoken aloud.

Again, I swallowed hard, assessing the distressed alien before me, although his persuasive arguments had long ago become as pointless as the perpetual debate I have with myself each time I'm preparing to get _Voyager_ involved in something so monumentally risky and unwise.

"I don't have time for this," Haas muttered, not really under his breath.

_You and me both_, I thought darkly at him.

I just barely caught the Brenari's final plea. "And those are the fortunate ones, Captain. A few, if they are attractive enough to catch the eye of some soldier…"

Even in my caffeine-craving stupor I caught the meaning of _that_ statement very clearly. And, from the set of Ensign Baytart's shoulders at the helm, from the way I could _feel_ Harry's dark young eyes boring expectant holes into the side of my skull – without looking – I knew Gamma shift had caught on, as well.

The nausea in my stomach announced its arrival, along with the unmistakable taste of bile rising in the back of my throat. _God, that little girl…and the others…that could so easily be Naomi… _

It's rare anymore that something horrifies me _so_ much that I'm struck speechless, but that did. Still, I held my ground and didn't react visibly; I outright refused to display any sign of weakness before the insufferable Haas.

"Captain Janeway," the now hard tone of the Nerelli's voice jerked my attention sharply back to the view screen, to the miserable huddle of telepaths clinging, terrified, to one another for support. "Your response. Now. Are they coming to your vessel or do I blow them out in an escape pod?"

The captain in me – Plain Captain – screamed that this was not the time to allow emotion, sympathy to overrule good common sense. And good common sense argued that we'd already attracted unwanted Devore attention by altering course to respond to the freighter's hail, that taking on such a blatant liability – twelve telepaths – endangered the one hundred and fifty lives I was charged to protect above all else.

It took maybe a nanosecond before the Kathryn in me, the human, and the _Starfleet_ captain united as one. They promptly informed "Plain Captain" where she could very well shove her common sense.

Really, I'd made my decision the moment I laid eyes upon Kir, the Brenari leader.

"Harry?" I called decisively, glaring down the opportunistic Haas. "Can you get a lock on them? _All_ of them?"

I could practically _hear_ him grinning. "Yes, ma'am," he retorted, in a crisp tone oddly reminiscent of Tom Paris's drawl, "transporters are standing by."

I wanted to grimace. _When we get home, the Admiralty is going to be thrilled with the logs from THIS one._

I held perfectly still. "Beam them directly to Sickbay," I clipped. "And inform the doctor of their pending arrival."

_What's one more violation? It's not like this is any worse than sharing holodeck technology with the Hirogen…__or helping the Borg fight an inter-species war, is it?_

"Aye, Captain. Energizing…" Harry's voice trailed off briefly. "Got 'em! All twelve Brenari safely aboard."

_I never really liked the look of those Admiral rank bars, anyway, _I had to admit to myself._ Spoils the effect of the uniform_…

Barely, I noted the familiar sound of the turbolift doors opening as someone entered the bridge, but Haas's response drove the errant thought right out of me.

"You are a fool, Janeway," the Nerelli captain hissed into the view screen, dominating the frame with his face. "They have nothing. They cannot pay for transport, and the Devore will eat you alive when they discover the Brenari aboard your ship."

I didn't doubt him. I'd also had more than enough of Haas's contempt for one ill-fated evening. Morning? _Hell. I'm never getting that coffee, am I?_

"Mr. Haas," I grated out, still keeping the same even expression plastered on my face, "you may be right on both accounts. Thank you for your _concern_. I'll consider myself warned." His glower actually did wonders to improve my mood. "Safe journey," I wished, and with my less-than-subtle slashing gesture, Harry mercifully cut the transmission right in the middle of the Nerelli's scathing retort.

I let out a breath. _Congratulations. You're a hero. Now what?_

"Harry," I turned, feeling indescribably old while rubbing my left shoulder absently. Allowing him his pleased grin was easy; a part of me certainly knew how he felt as I directed, "I'll need all senior officers in the conference room by four fifteen. There'll be a briefing. Make sure the doctor is patched through for it. And inform Lieutenant Tuvok the instant that ship is out of sensor range, but not before. Until then, he, Vorik, and Jurot are to stay put; I don't trust the Nerelli any farther than I can throw them."

"Aye, Captain – understood."

I watched his hands work over the controls as he carried out my orders with practiced agility, giving my mind a moment to sort through the usual myriad of priority tasks vying for my attention.

It always amazes me how calm, how in control I manage to sound, even when I can't seem to think straight_…_I paused in my pacing of the length of carpet before my chair, my right hand finding its way to rest upon my hip. _Well, most importantly right now..._"How long before the Devore intercept us?" I demanded.

Harry frowned, dark head bent slightly over his console, and my stomach gave a little flutter of unpleasant anticipation. He only frowns like that when it's bad news…

"Less than two hours."

Again my stomach lurched. I ignored it, striding purposefully up the ramp to Kim's station, determined to view the readings personally. "How is that possible? We detected the first ship at least a light year away. Could the sensors be malfunctioning?" _Stop coddling the boy, Kathryn. What you MEANT was could he have read them wrong?_

But, glancing down at the unmistakable configuration and the two, tiny red blips denoting the position of the Devoran cruisers in relation to _Voyager's_ blue, it was quickly apparent that Harry had made no mistake. _And, really, it was horrible of you to doubt him in the first place._

It had been. I trust him implicitly.

"Damn," I muttered irately, peering at his readings. "They must have some kind of sensor scattering technology. Someone could have _mentioned_ that to us," I growled the afterthought not quite under my breath.

Harry said nothing, but he didn't have to. Those open, expressive brown eyes spoke volumes for him as usual; I could read his nervousness and apprehension. He, like everyone else, stood at attention, awaiting direction, further instructions from his captain…

_Which would be YOU, wouldn't it? _I started inwardly. _Really, you're going to NEED that coffee soon if things keep up like this. _"Start working on a way to counteract whatever technology they're using to deflect our scans. Wake Seven and have her assist you. In the meantime," I spun on my heel, turning toward the turbolift, "I'll be in sickbay, greeting our gues–"

Something solid directly blocked my movement, shocking me to a halt. Staring in confusion at the arm in my path, at the object proffered by that arm…

And I could have cried. Fulfilled, my grateful eyes followed along the contours of a light brown hand, up the black-clad arm, and over broad red shoulders to light upon the twinkling black eyes of my first officer. Studying him, he looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed –which he probably had. His uniform was creased and slightly rumpled, and his dark hair stood out at odd angles. Still, he'd never looked more beautiful to me than in that moment, considering what he held in that hand…

Greedily, my fingers closed around the shining, gleaming handle of the coffee mug he held out to me.

"Thought you might want this before you go and greet our guests," he smirked at my open-mouthed amazement, his perfectly chiseled chin dimpling in the dim lights of the night shift as he murmured a low addition so that only I could hear him, "Can't have the captain accidentally walking into walls from lack of coffee, can we?"

"Bless you, Chakotay," I managed, before my mouth was too full to continue. He'd seen through me. Had arrived on the bridge, it seemed, in time to catch most of the relevant exchange between myself, the Brenari, and the Nerelli. He'd seen through me to the sluggish fatigue still clinging to my brain, the sleep not wanting to be shaken off so easily. He'd also seen right through my forced civility with Haas and had known exactly what I needed. _He knows you so well, _I had to admit to myself then.

At times, it was frankly a little scary.

Half the cup was already gone, leaving my lips and tongue decidedly numb from the scalding temperature. It felt wonderful. It felt…like heaven. Still staring into those warm dark eyes, I cradled the cup just below my chin and…_okay, he's definitely earned it…_gave him what I knew he wanted. _The _smile. The one I reserve only for him…and, once or twice, for particularly receptive alien dignitaries.

It'd been so long since I'd used it, I was almost afraid it had lost its power but something about the way my first officer's sparkling eyes softened almost imperceptibly told me otherwise.

_Enough, Kathryn. Enough with the personal indulgences; you haven't the time to spare._

I certainly didn't. The twenty seconds the exchange had taken was more than I could afford, the coffee a welcome luxury I had no more time to waste on. The captain reasserted herself in an instant, straightening my posture. "I've called a meeting of the senior staff at four fifteen. We have less than two hours to come up with a way to hide those refugees." I paused, acknowledged his nod with another sip. "I'll be in sickbay, greeting our new Brenari passengers. Hopefully, they'll have some suggestions. Or at the very least, some helpful insights regarding the Devore."

Chakotay reached out, taking the empty cup from my hand, and I gave it up without a second thought. "Aye, Captain," his soft reply was all but lost on me as I brushed by him, "I'll recycle this for you."

I'd made my way to the turbolift already. After the fleeting moment of human connection with my first officer, something in me seemed inexplicably…more focused. The indulgence had been worth it, and my mind was already working at more normal speeds through different scenarios to potentially shield the telepaths from Devoran sensors.

So quickly, Chakotay's incredible kindness had faded from the forefront of my thoughts.

I wish I had known, somehow. I might have taken the time to savor it more completely, but that one, stolen, blessed moment of peace, shared with my first officer, would be the last one I'd have for a long, long time.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

The unexpected distress call from the passing freighter had not been something we could have, in good conscience, ignored…Devore directives or no. Had I been on the bridge before the decision was made, I would, out of duty, have reminded the captain that our response would violate our "parole" and as a result, likely aggravate the Devore. And she would have listened with one ear, politely thanked me, and opened a channel to the nearby ship, anyway. I would have wanted her to; we don't ignore requests for humanitarian aid. Not without hearing them out first, anyway.

It isn't in our nature.

After the computer informed me of Kathryn's oddly timed exit from her quarters and subsequent arrival on the bridge…an alert I'd yet to disable though I kept _meaning_ to…I was relieved to note that there'd been a legitimate reason for her sleeplessness. Watching her make the right choice without much hesitation was bolstering enough to compensate for the further deprivation of my own sleep.

And one glance at her posture, at the tight cut of her lips as they pressed thinner and thinner sent me briefly, discretely into her ready room for what I knew she craved more than anything else in the quadrant at that moment. She could function without it, yes, but it would help her think more clearly, to shake the fog of too little sleep, and it wasn't as if she could stop the confrontation to step away and get one herself. Obviously.

We have a silent agreement. Typically, I don't like that she practically mainlines the stuff – and then wonders why she can't sleep properly and usually isn't hungry. I don't harp on it, because she's an adult who makes her own choices and it isn't dangerous to her health – but she knows how I feel about it. Just as I know how she feels about my tendency lately to use food as the same comfort crutch. She doesn't have to say it outright…we can read the subtle reproving glances in each other by now.

During any crisis, it's a different story. I don't begrudge her her coffee by the liters, if she wants it. And she pretends not to notice when I come up short on rations she knows went to late night slices of pumpkin and sweet potato pie.

I got her the coffee. Her smile – _the _smile – was more than enough thanks for my trouble. I was warmed to the core by that look. It had been so long since I'd last seen it, it…it was hope. We'd be all right again.

Given a little time.

In one way, at least, we were fortunate to have encountered the Nerelli freighter. Kir, the Brenari male officially in charge of the small band of refugees, managed to prepare us better for undergoing the rigors of a _real _Devore inspection. He assured us our initial experience was nothing to the real thing. Without his knowledge, we might so easily have been caught unawares by Kashyk's team…

I stayed on the bridge, allowing Kathryn, B'Elanna and the others to concentrate on devising a method for concealing our guests. Under my supervision, transporter and sensor logs from the past two hours were carefully deleted from _Voyager's_ database. A ship-wide announcement was made, advising all department heads to prepare for inspection. I was just beginning to worry whether or not the captain would make it back to the bridge in time for the pending confrontation when the turbolift doors whooshed open behind me, and I detected the long-ago memorized rhythm of her footsteps.

She'd hardly taken her seat before Callahan chimed in, covering for Harry Kim…who was, last I'd heard, in Transporter Room Two. Callahan announced, "The Devore vessels are taking up a tactical position – five hundred kilometers from our fore and aft sections." It was odd, hearing the less familiar voice reporting in Harry's stead, a tangible reminder of the uncertainty we faced at that moment.

"They're boxing us in," Tom's low voice noted from the helm, thickly sarcastic. The sandy-blonde head of his swiveled to steal a glance at us before he turned to face the helm again as he muttered, "You'd almost think they were _used_ to people running from them."

"With good reason," Kathryn acknowledged coolly in response, her fingers playing over the console between our seats. She offered a wry smile to whichever of us happened to be looking her way without looking up. "But I don't intend to be intimidated by a little posturing." Her gaze went suddenly steely and she met my eyes briefly. Silently, she answered my unspoken question with a nod: _yes, the transporter test was a success._ That she was confident in both facial expression and body language reassured me considerably.

I heard the whistle of the ship-wide communications link establishing itself as Kathryn took a deep breath before beginning her announcement. "All hands, this is the captain." Her blue eyes flitted over the bridge, taking in the details, ascertaining the level of the bridge crew's readiness with a sharp eye even as she spoke to the ship as a whole. "We're likely to be boarded by Devore inspection teams. We expect this round to be somewhat more…" she paused, locking eyes with me again, "rigorous than the last. It is _imperative_ that everyone behaves as normally as possible. Follow any instructions imparted to you by their soldiers. Be as cooperative as you can. I cannot stress this enough…they'll likely have little tolerance for disobedience of any kind. I have faith that each and every one of you will remain mindful of that fact. Do nothing to provoke them."

The comm. system's link with the rest of the ship terminated audibly, leaving, in the absence of her words, an eerie silence which prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed overwhelmingly suffocating.

Feeling her gaze on me, however, I managed a reassuring smile and a somewhat more relaxed posture. I couldn't let it rest on the captain's shoulders alone to bolster the crew's confidence, so I worked to help her reassure them by setting an outwardly confident, if somewhat tense, example. I worked, also, to help her reassure herself; I know her. I knew damned well that she wasn't immune to the tension either; she simply refused to _show_ it.

Even with both our best efforts, the result was dismal at best. The tension still hung thickly in the air. To my trained eye, the bridge crew replacements were visibly nervous; their movements were stiff and forced, jerky and uncertain. I thought worriedly that, unless they were deaf, dumb _and_ blind, the Devore would surely notice it, too. I'd have to do what I could to distract from that if possible.

"Lieutenant," the captain called, turning her head slightly to acknowledge Rollins, who was manning Tuvok's station, "what can you tell me about their weapons? Where do we stand with regards to–"

The warships answered her question first, firing a "warning" shot across our bow that violently rocked our ship. A hot surge of anger had my eyes narrowing and my lips parted to inquire about returning fire, but the words never made it out of my mouth.

"Captain, we're being hailed by the lead vessel." The nervousness in the young woman's voice was unmistakable as she reported from Operations.

Kathryn remained cool, though I did observe the way her knuckles whitened from the tight grip she kept on the armrest of her chair. Her head inclined forward ever so slightly. "On screen."

A balding, grey-haired Devoran soldier – _another lieutenant_, I noted with a sensation akin to relief – filled the massive view screen at the front of the command center. Beside me, I felt Kathryn draw in a breath to introduce herself when she, too, was cut off from her intent.

"_Gaharay_ vessel, prepare to be inspected. Crewmen are instructed to step away from their stations. Side arms–"

She interrupted the droning automaton without a second thought. "Actually, we've already had the pleasure of being inspected, Mister…?"

The silver-haired man barely acknowledged that she'd spoken. His gaze seemed to bore straight through her…through all of us, as though we were beneath his notice. He resumed his obviously well-rehearsed speech at a slightly louder volume. "Side arms and scanning equipment are to be set aside. Deviation from this, or any other inspection protocols, _will not be tolerated_."

I swear on the spirits of my ancestors, the look on that Devoran lieutenant's face reflected such pride in his accomplishment when he'd finished…I doubted seriously whether Naomi Wildman's could match it, not even on the day Kathryn had finally relented and "officially" promoted her to captain's assistant.

He continued in a colder voice, "Captain, you will instruct your crew to cooperate with our soldiers."

My eyebrows came up at the unmistakable air of authority with which he addressed her. She stiffened, leaning forward in her seat with a frozen smile plastered on her face. "That won't be necessary; I've just done so–"

"Captain," came the somewhat strangled voice of Rollins from Tactical, sending a shiver of unease traveled upward along my rigid spine, "they're charging–"

_Voyager_ rocked again, this time a bit more forcefully.

"Direct hit to our port bow!" Rollins reported, sounding rattled. "Shields at ninety-two percent and holding…"

I met Kathryn's outraged eyes, knowing my own anger at the bullying tactic was openly displayed for her to read too. Using the armrests of her chair, she shot herself upright and stalked toward the view screen, staring down the faintly smirking soldier. "That was uncalled for."

Her cold glare, which I'd caught the trail end of before she'd risen, reminded me of the look _I'd_ received not too long ago…just before exiting her quarters with a small handful of 'Fleet issued phasers.

The growl was low and warning in her throat. "I was merely explaining to you that–"

"Captain, you will instruct your crew to cooperate with our soldiers," he repeated exactly as before, as though addressing a small, disobedient child. "You will do so now, for me to hear."

She froze in place. Most likely biting back on some scathing retort. I knew she was bristling, even seething. Hell, I was, too. But after the slightest of pauses, Kathryn only tilted her head lightly to the right. "All hands, this is the captain," she called into thin air, knowing the comm. system would pick up her address. Her tone could only have been categorized as one of exasperated annoyance. One hand went to her hip while she continued to regard the unnamed Devoran officer on our screen. I couldn't see her face anymore, but I'd have been willing to bet she was still glaring him down as she announced, "Prepare to be boarded by Devore inspection teams. Give their soldiers your full cooperation."

For the second time in less than five minutes, the ship-wide communications system went inactive.

I almost expected the soldier to offer her a treat, as though she was a pet who'd performed some trick. He nodded curtly, relaxing slightly. Apparently confident that he'd brought her to heel.

It showed how little he knew her.

"Good," he declared grudgingly. "Lower your shields. Their use is a violation of Imperative fourteen, Codicil five twenty-three." He waited impassively while Kathryn, openly rolling her eyes, nodded just as curtly over her shoulder for Callahan to comply.

The image flickered then faded abruptly, indicating the termination of our communications' link with their ship. As Kathryn spun on her heel to approach me, shaking her head disgustedly, Rollins reported steadily, "Devore soldiers are beaming aboard, Captain. There are fifteen on Deck Eleven. Twenty-five on Deck Seven. Forty on Deck Three…" The lieutenant's strong voice hitched. "And fifteen," he frowned, as though he'd misread something. "No, make that eighteen on Deck–"

Soldiers spilled out from the conference room, the turbolift, and of all places, the captain's ready room. We all moved to formally greet them, rising stiffly. Tom and everyone else stepped away from their stations a few paces, as ordered.

Their hand-held weapons were huge. One clear thought cut through the horrible flutters of anticipation in my stomach: this group was _nothing_ like Brek's motley band of soldiers. This team, led by the very silver-haired lieutenant from the view screen, spread out in a distinctly pre-established pattern. In seconds, the crisply uniformed, no-nonsense aliens herding us together toward the center of the bridge had us surrounded. They easily forced us into a loose huddle – none too gently, either.

Kathryn allowed this for a moment, not reacting to the mild prod from one of their phaser rifles until, unable to contain herself for long, she attempted another dialogue with the one we took to be in charge of the inspection. Her shoulders squared in that resolute way which always makes me simultaneously admire her and, as usual, fear for her safety. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I edged closer to her.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

I watched the initial exchange between the _gaharay_ captain and my lieutenant from my usual place, the raised dais in the command center of the _Anestryx_. My painstakingly customized seat was the most comfortable in the room.

It was the only one in the room.

The artificially cool upholstery was pleasantly chilling against the hot leather stripping of my uniform. It offered me an edge, a delicious little jolt of sensation which offset the sweet thrill of the adrenaline pumping fiercely through my expanded veins.

Inspection time – there's nothing like it. My heart beats quicken, shortening each individual breath by a hair. Enough, just barely, to induce the addictive sensation I can only liken to the first stage of intoxication; the only stage I can bear, incidentally. I do like to retain control of myself at all times. But that first stage I allow and, on occasion seek, though it cannot compare to the distinct head rush I experience prior to a first inspection.

Not that it's all fun and games; it isn't. Inspections can go one of two ways. Either they are miserable, or they are delightful. Rarely are they mediocre. They are always stimulating.

I crave stimulation. _Not_, I reflected hastily, _that anyone can honestly blame me for that. I do have PRAX_ _for my most intimate companion, after all._

Her face filled the view screen, and I studied her as closely as possible in the limited time frame allotted for the conversation. It was a face completely devoid of any distinguishing ridges. Instead, her nose was smooth and, in lieu of the familiar textured arch over her eyes, she sported thin brows of hair the same red color as that on the top of her head. _Like the Brenari_, I mused.

She wasn't at all as old as I'd expected, I noted with some surprise. The features displayed before me were…almost pleasant to look upon. _Aristocratic_, I thought of her profile, as she turned her head briefly to acknowledge someone or something off screen. Her piercing blue eyes, however, were what drew my attention for the remainder of the transmission. They reflected such challenge, such a keen intelligence that I felt something in my gut tighten automatically.

_Anticipation, that's all, _I reassured myself swiftly._ Her intellect simply bodes well for your potential ability to use these aliens to find the wormhole._ I stared, focused only upon the face of the potential opponent before me.

_I_ remained invisible, obviously. It would not have done to reveal myself before the most precisely opportune moment.

First contact with a new species is not that moment. It gives away too much of the surprise, too much of the tactical advantage. I am, physically speaking, an impressive figure when decked out in full uniform. I imagined the _gaharay_ captain would think so, too. But I would wait until Prax had the chance to unnerve her before introducing myself, before sweeping in to pick up the frightened pieces, as it were. She would undoubtedly prove much more cooperative after a small taste of Prax's temper. And she _was_, however inadvertently, courting my lieutenant's ire with a seeming vengeance.

She interrupted him. I contained my mirth rather badly, I'm afraid. The junior officers in the room – all twelve of them – followed suit, emboldened, most likely, by my own laughter. I saw his fists clench though I knew she could not.

Even after eight years of serving with Prax, I still couldn't say which he hated more – being interrupted or being mocked, but I found myself amused by this woman already. Anyone that irritates Prax is a welcome addition to my daily routine; when irritated, he amuses me. It is, perhaps, the _only_ time he amuses me...

His teams transported to _Voyager_ the instant we severed the brief communication. And, after precisely two fractions, I followed.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

"I'm Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation starship _Voyager_. Are you the individual in command of this team?"

The Devoran lieutenant ignored her, touching something on his wrist instead. "We've secured the bridge crew. There have been no reports of resistance as of yet." He spoke loudly, tonelessly, yet received no audible response. His eyes – a colorless sort of blue that I rather felt matched his personality – met the captain's. "You will form a straight line in front of the view screen." His beady gaze rested deliberately on Kathryn, then swiveled to me. "_All _of you," he stressed.

Some habits die hard. Though we'd clearly heard her orders to comply with Devoran instructions, the captain's very presence delayed our compliance. Somehow, thankfully, she noted the problem with enough time to spare before the Devore could react to the lack of movement.

"Do it," she clipped, giving a slight nod in our direction.

Kathryn herself moved first to circle around Tom's station. I followed closely behind her and, somehow, we ended up sorting ourselves by rank, with Kathryn and I on the far left and closest to her ready room, Ayala and Rollins more towards the middle, and the lone crewman from one of the science departments at the far right.

From our new position, we had a clear view of the organized search of the bridge. I'm still not convinced that was a good thing, all in all. These soldiers were less destructive, yet infinitely more intrusive with their scans. My mouth dropped open a bit, going slack with amazement as my eyes came to rest on one soldier literally _scanning the floor _with his steadily blinking scanner. Turning to face her, I caught Kathryn's look with –

Her astonished expression, almost horrified as it fixed just over my shoulder, confused me for a split second before a sharp pain exploded through my ribcage. Shocked, my knees buckled under the force of the blow, and I grasped at my side instinctively, but that was a mistake because I couldn't quite keep my footing and stumbled, tripping over a boot I hadn't expected to be in my path. The floor rose up to greet me, and I grunted as air was forced from my lungs on impact, sending another jarring, ragged pain tearing through me.

Dimly, I heard the lieutenant growl, "_Gaharay_ crewmembers are to face _forward_ for inspection!"

Was he _kidding_? That's what I'd just been bowled over for? Turning my _head_?

I struggled as quickly as I could to my knees, wanting to rise in order to stem any misguided response from the rest of the crew in my defense. But, to my horror, the unprovoked attack apparently _did_ provoke Kathryn into action, because I heard her infuriated words to the large lieutenant, even as I watched in disbelief her boots taking several steps forward. Her right hand clasped my shoulder protectively, as Tom's left hand gripped my arm to assist my ascent.

"Let's be clear on one thing, _sir_," she grated while helping me rise, her words painfully clipped and enunciated, "I'll cooperate with your inspection teams, but I will NOT allow you to harm–"

It took maybe half a second for the lieutenant's weapon to swing away from me and aim at her head.

My heart stopped beating inside of my throbbing ribs as I regained my footing. But another soldier, who'd circled around behind us without our noticing, beat the burly man to his intended target. A Devoran rifle connected solidly with her upper back before I could steady myself, and then I had to observe helplessly as Kathryn, falling over my own outstretched leg, hit the deck every bit as harshly as I had moments before.

_Damn it_, I swore volubly to myself. _They didn't have to hit her! _And damn her…why couldn't she ever take her own warnings seriously?

The rest of us were kept firmly in place by the presence of the six Devoran soldiers now physically flanking our small group, one of them anticipating my instinct to step in and muscling in between us. But for the pain in my side and the Devore hulk of a creature standing directly between us now, I would've helped her to stand. Instead, I could do nothing but watch as she moved her jarred limbs back under her to be able to rise.

"Get up," the Devoran officer ordered coldly, looking down on her dispassionately.

He needn't have bothered; she'd never have stayed down for long unless they'd knocked her unconscious. The blow wasn't nearly hard enough to do that, and she was on her feet in record time, eyes blazing. He, however, gave her no time to formulate another scathing response. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face the view screen. To my right, I was very aware of the other members of _Voyager's_ crew being turned the same way, and my arm was gripped also. When we all faced the view screen, weapons barrels barely centimeters from our skulls, one by one, our legs were kicked out from under us.

Kathryn was kicked to her knees after me, by which time I'd had more than enough of the Devore manhandling of the crew and, particularly, of her. Pulling forward, I intended to break free of the pressure pushing down on my shoulder, but the lieutenant was surprisingly swift. Suppressing a grunt of pain of my own as his rifle dug harshly into my already screaming ribs, my highly attuned ears detected the tiny, feminine groan that had escaped from the person to my right as she hit the deck.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

Strange smells assaulted me immediately, as they always do upon boarding an enemy vessel. But I was pleased to note that, among the faint scent which must have been unique to humans, the overwhelming aroma was of…well cleanliness. _They must have a half-decent sterilization system_. _Good. At least the _SHIP _isn't filthy. _As for the humans themselves – and other _gaharay_ species infesting the place – I'd decided to reserve judgment.

I hate that. Our uniforms are specifically constructed to ward off the bacteria, the microorganisms which, all too often, are prevalent aboard _gaharay_ vessels. I know this, of course, but there have been a few times when I've found myself standing under the sonic blast of my non-hydro refresher module for hours after an inspection just to feel clean again. On several occasions, I've even been moved to have the entirety of the _Anestryx_ purged, convinced that my ship had been contaminated by vicious alien microbes.

You can never be too careful. Who among us can _really_ say for certain what strange things constant contact with so many _gaharay_ might bring?

I did not experience this sensation of defilement aboard _Voyager_ and, already, I liked it here. The temperature, too, was only slightly warmer than that which we consider temperate, and I was relatively comfortable, for once, as I made my way to the bridge using the schematic I'd downloaded into my portable scanning device. My personal guard, officers Brex and Jahal, carried their rifles forward and at the ready.

I am always secure in their company. Their livelihoods depend upon my safety: should some accident befall me, they know Prax will have them executed.

Prax had exactly enough time to secure the bridge before I'd made it to the ready room – the captain's office. From there, it was a short stretch to the command center itself.

Before entering, I stopped on Deck One. Waiting, and switching on my viewer, affixed to Prax's belt, and it was a good thing I'd checked. I had almost, it seemed, wandered directly into the middle of Prax's retaliation against the gaharay captain…and that wouldn't have done, to arrive in the midst of all that commotion.

Her second-in-command hit the deck, crumpling under a well-aimed blow to his side. It amused me to observe the unguarded shock on the faces of the eight assembled crewmembers and, particularly, on the face of the one who'd been on the receiving end of Prax's weapon. _Idiots, _I sneered silently. _What sort of treatment can you expect while trespassing through the space of your betters? _

They _were_ a colorful bunch. I could make out only one species among them – the dominant race, the humans. For the moment, they were all that concerned me; _she _was all that concerned me. Taking accurate inventory of the leader was my primary concern. Still, I couldn't seem to stop myself from taking a quick glance over the assembled group…

Though strange, if I had to call them anything, I'd have said they were sleek.

Their absolutely absurdly fragile, useless-looking uniforms were black, for the most part, yet the shoulders were a mixture of assorted shades. I wondered absently at the color differentiation, whether it was an indication of rank or function. I also noted vaguely that roughly half of the assembled crewmen were female, as I'd predicted. But I had neither the time nor the inclination to look for a potential bedmate among them in light of the scene unfolding before my eyes.

Across the room, the woman from the viewer, Janeway, pushed forward a few steps to confront Prax. On the tiny screen, I knew her only by her red hair; she was the only human with hair that particular color on the bridge. Watching her, I winced; it'd been a rather unwise move to make. The guard behind her, whose name I'd never bothered to learn, brought his weapon down without a second thought and she, too, took an inelegant tumble to the carpeted deck.

_Carpet_, I scoffed. _She's fortunate. If that had been the hard grating of the Anestryx, she'd have broken something._ I found it slightly disappointing that she had not. My timely "rescue" would have been all the more effective if she'd been seriously injured.

As it was, she was on her feet in admirable time, her tiny body once more squaring off to confront my lieutenant…

_What the hell does she think she's DOING, _I wondered, surprised. _Has she NO sense of self-preservation?_ Even if one were to overlook the weapon he aimed at her head, Prax was easily double her size and weight. _He could kill her, bare-handed, with a few well placed blows!_

He knew better, of course. I wasn't worried. Not exactly. The point is that he _could_ have. And she had no way of knowing whether or not he'd practice the appropriate restraint and not pound her into oblivion.

There was absolutely no reason for her to risk personal injury at this juncture. From the way her hand lowered to casually grip her first officer's shoulder, from the way she swiftly moved to put herself between that man and Prax's hard weapon, there seemed only one explanation for her rash behavior. _S__he's actually putting her own safety in jeopardy in order to defend her subordinate._

It was a thing unheard of. _Does she not realize…that's what they're THERE for…to come between her and harm's way? _

I did not know whether to fear her for her unbalanced behavior, admire her for her remarkable courage, or curse her for a fool. At that precise moment, I was probably leaning toward all three in fairly equal measure.

Prax did not allow her the opportunity to challenge him further. Seizing her arm – once more, I was struck by the sheer size difference between them – he turned her, directing his team to do likewise with the remaining crewmembers in line. He shoved her to her knees, and, again, the rest of the team moved to copy his movements with the remainder of her crew. If I wished to observe her further, I would have to step out onto the command center of the ship and intervene, I knew…

I did.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

Concerned, I noted the way she'd been holding her wrist draped across the palm of her other hand.

I was resigned to the new kneeling position on the floor, facing towards the view screen. Of course, that first nudge of a Devoran phaser rifle to the base of my spine…an unmistakable warning not to move out of the new position…had helped encourage me not to argue.

Yet.

But they'd retreated to watch us from a distance by now, and a quick survey of the room put them far enough away not to be able to hear the slightest of whispers passing between us right at this moment. I was taking advantage of it while I could.

"' You all right?" I whispered to her out of the corner of my mouth, careful not to let my lips form the words.

Her anger was a palpable thing, radiating from her in intensely physical waves, rushing outward and meshing with my own. "I'm fine," she stated, dismissing the question with a very small flick of her wrist. She didn't turn to look at me, thankfully, but her jaw was set in that firm little line which I knew so well. It brooked no further inquiry from me regarding something so trivial as her physical condition. "You?" she demanded automatically.

Sarcasm, thick and non-preventable, coated my words. "Fine," I mimicked, in a pretty good impression of her tone if I said so myself.

"I just hope the rest of the crew is faring better than we are," Kathryn muttered ominously, pointedly ignoring my obvious ill-humor.

Only Tom seemed able to hear either of us. Apparently, he'd also noted the careful positioning of her wrist, which she'd arrayed somewhat protectively in her lap. "Sprain," he whispered darkly, throwing the menacing soldier patrolling the deck in front of us a deceptively innocent, ultimately sarcastic smile, if I knew him at all. "Friendly bastards, aren't they?" he gritted out of the corner of his mouth. "Definitely the hands-on type. How are those ribs, Chakotay? Any difficulty breathing?"

But there was time for no more conversation. Behind us – which most things were while we faced the view screen – a new voice rang out in our ears. Smug and almost cartoonishly cheerful, it was a voice I would come to despise more than anything I'd ever despised before…Cardassians included.

"Captain Janeway." While I stared, a black-gloved hand extended downward into view, its open and upturned palm gesturing for her to grasp it.

Without thinking, I tried to swivel around to get a look at this new soldier, but the muzzle of the rifle at my neck dug deeper into my flesh, halting my progress. Letting me know our guards had melted forward again to stand directly behind us in the interim. Probably to protect the newcomer, if I'd had to guess.

I could only observe as she, after hesitating briefly and throwing me a dubious glance, took the proffered hand and was helped to her feet.

The voice uttered just one directive, and it was the very _last _thing I wanted to hear addressed to my captain at that moment…

"Please, follow me."

This time, there was no hesitation. We listened to the sound of her footsteps, accompanied by the heavier footfalls of another, as they grew further and further away. With the hissing of doors parting briefly before closing again, the footsteps faded altogether.

Kneeling on the bridge of _Voyager_, my stomach was a huge, aching bundle of knots.

And the silence was once more deafening to my ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer****:** See chapter one/prologue.

**Note****:** I'm going for overall character growth here, and he has to start somewhere ;)

Chapter Three

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

She followed me into the room – her own office, in fact. I paid no immediate attention to her; I headed directly for the chair behind her desk, without so much as a glance in her direction.

Our first meeting would be on my terms. It was my intention to make this known to her from the outset of our association.

The guards posted just inside halted her progress the instant she entered. There was the matter of searching her for concealed weapons – a formality I'd intended to waive, in order to better play the sympathetic oppressor role. But after her little spitfire show with Prax, I wouldn't have put it past her to shoot me in some grand gesture of defiance.

By the time I'd settled comfortably, Brex and Jahal were stepping back to resume their posts in front of the doors, blocking her escape should our encounter require the use of any…_persuasion_ on my part.

I realized my mistake at once; next time, I'd have her called into the room _after_ I'd had time to arrange myself. I'd lost precious seconds, seconds in which I could have been sizing her up and selecting the best tactical approach. They were seconds she gained by default.

She made damned effective use of them.

Those laser-focused, intelligent blue eyes were already fixed upon me, even as I formed my first comprehensive face to face impression of her…

And I was admittedly shocked speechless.

It was just that I hadn't – I'd never – it didn't – rather, _she_ wasn't…

I don't know what I felt in that instant, or if I really had the ability to form any one coherent thought.

Yes, I'd seen her face on my view screen, had taken the opportunity to scrutinize her visage, but it seemed I hadn't gotten the whole picture. _Not by half_, I lamented ruefully. I had been far too concerned with the differences between us, with her potential use to me. I'd not had the opportunity to stop and evaluate her in terms of physical appeal.

A grievous error, indeed.

In person, she was devastatingly attractive. Even through the strangeness, the alien features and foreign complexion, I found her stunning – no –

_Compelling_. That was the word that came to mind as I stared at her.

I hadn't been expecting it.

I had never expected that my physical attraction to _Voyager's_ captain would be an issue at all.

Like a supernova explosion, a thousand curses exploded through my mind all at once. That attraction, however vehemently I tried to deny it, was going to be a _very _real issue now.

She practically radiated power. Cool, smooth, confident power. Absolute control. _This is a REAL woman_, I recognized instinctively.

And my first, primitive reaction to that was embarrassing. The urge that almost consumed me, the images of what I wanted to do in response to her aura were as visceral as they were profane. Almost bordering on the obscene, and it shocked me, the strength of those pictures. Those compulsions.

_This isn't happening, _I swore vehemently to myself. Kicking myself, and shaking myself out of the stupor that had seemed to have fallen over me. _Not this ship. Not this woman! _

I already knew that this vessel was far too important, its captain far too important; I couldn't risk allowing myself to be influenced by any part of my anatomy other than my brain. So I might not have been prepared for the appeal of her proud little face, for the classic lines of her nose, chin and cheekbones, or for the expressive sweeps of those dark eyelashes, that compact little body, but I am a soldier first and foremost. I had myself under control in less than an instant. Or so I believed.

"Ah, yes. _Finally_," I boomed to cover my momentary lapse in concentration. Gracing her with my most satisfied smile, I remained seated in her chair, a visual reminder of my control over the situation. "Captain Janeway. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

She took no further notice of my guards behind her, though I knew she was aware of their presence. One hand was planted firmly on her hip, the other hung loosely by her side – the only acknowledgment of her earlier injury she seemed ready to make. And otherwise, her general demeanor was almost one of…_indifference_. We could have been chatting casually in some space station bar for all of the anxiety she displayed.

Which irritated me strongly, considering all the trouble I'd gone to in order to make her fearful, anxious, at this moment.

"I wish I could say the same," she returned coolly. "But you seem to have me at somewhat of a…disadvantage, Mister…" she trailed off, waiting expectantly. Not quite smiling fully.

The double entendre revealed more than just a dry sense of humor, and I chuckled appreciatively. She'd cleverly made her opening stance clear with a few, well chosen words: she knew exactly what I was about, using her office and sitting in her chair. She saw the unnecessarily large number of men accompanying me for what it really was – pure posturing. Intimidation tactics.

And she wasn't falling for it.

_More likely_, I amended naturally, _she will not let me __SEE__her falling for it_. _Good for her_, I couldn't help thinking, even through my annoyance.

Already, I looked forward to seeing just how long that impenetrable mask of hers would last…it couldn't be much longer. Had my second teams not already confirmed that the Brenari were no longer aboard the now-confiscated Nerelli freighter, I might actually have believed Janeway innocent of deception, such was the confidence she projected.

_To hell with it, _I decided, further intrigued by her astute observations of my behavior. _I can certainly look, can't I? _

Of course I could. Rising, I used the action to cover how I let my eyes pass over her, from head to toe, then back to her face. A less than thorough appraisal, but enough for me to confirm how pleasingly enough she was shaped. My eyes met blue again. "Forgive me, Captain," I grinned, anything but repentant. "Inspector Kashyk, Commander of the Third Legion of the Devore Imperium."

She inclined her head slightly, politely acknowledged my title. And to my amazement, she used _her_ small gesture to let her eyes sweep over me exactly as I had done with her.

No woman had ever been that bold before, and certainly not at first meeting. _Gaharay_.

I let her look without hesitation. I know I'm an attractive man, and now, she knew it, too.

Her eyes locked again onto mine.

_Cocky_, I thought of her attitude, studying her. _Like me_. _It's really a shame I'm going to have to break her of that trait…and quite soon. _I couldn't very well allow her to go on maintaining that air of security; it undermined my plan to indebt her to me.

Of course, once Prax found the telepaths, I could always force her hand and compel her cooperation in locating the wormhole. She could be required to engage her crew in solving the puzzle for me, in exchange for the release of her vessel. And every other pleasure that was naturally implied under such a situation would also be on the table at that point. Yet to take that route, I had to be _absolutely sure_ it would be effective; there would be no going back after such a strong action on my part.

"You've caused quite a stir within the Devore Imperium," I told her.

It was a lie; I'd taken steps to guard against just that. There was no way in _space_ I wanted this potentially precious gem, _Voyager_, to attract attention from of the likes of Juryk or any of my other rivals. I only lied to unnerve her. To see her response.

"Oh?" Janeway raised a solitary eyebrow. They were very expressive, those brows. Aside from that small motion, she still exhibited no indication of nervousness. No hint of apprehension. "Is that so?" she obliged, in a manner which suggested a distinct lack of interest. And certainly no fear. "I can't imagine why. We're a small science vessel. _Voyager_ poses no threat to your Imperium, Inspector."

She resented me. _That_ she made no secret; it was in the forward tilt of her chin, in the defiance of her stance, and I was used to that resentment. I liked it.

But she did not seem afraid of me. _She must have used those few seconds I wasted settling into her chair to compose herself, _I reasoned, still looking her over carefully for signs of weakness. Unable, it seemed, to look away from her. Yet I detected no trace of the anxiety, of the apprehension I'd been counting on.

_I'll just have to work harder then, won't I?_

I watched her slender lips curve enticingly for a few seconds, until I understood that they were moving. She was speaking, and I'd missed the first few words, "…to understand that we did not intend any offense. We'd no idea we were unwelcome in your space. I'm sure you can understand our desire to get home, Inspector. We agreed to the terms your first inspection team laid out, and we've done nothing to compromise those terms. So you must realize how this sudden…_detainment…_has come as a bit of a surprise…"

She employed all of her diplomatic skill, managing to sound charmingly logical. If I'd cared even a little, I might very well have been persuaded to consider her words.

"Captain Janeway," I heard myself say loudly, cutting over her, and ignoring the fact that she'd just lied to my face; if the telepaths weren't on the Nerelli freighter, the only other place they could be was aboard _Voyager_. "Allow me to apologize. It appears our initial inspection team was less than adequate in preparing you for your long journey through our sector."

_As it was meant to be._

I came around the desk, moving very deliberately closer to her, and smiled widely. Most ingratiatingly.

She was not impressed.

Nonplussed by her lack of responsiveness, my ire was further piqued. I allowed my eyes to wander over the well-furnished room rather than risk letting her know it. Tearing my eyes away from her to inspect the room more closely. The shelves and corners were dotted with interesting little knickknacks, which must have had some sentimental value to her and which dimly called out to me to personally inspect them. Perhaps to smash them to pieces, to remove my weapon and blast them out of existence, just to watch her face, her reaction while I did it. Any other _gaharay_ to irk me to this degree and I wouldn't hesitate…

_But not here, _I knew instinctively, checking the impulse._ Not this one._ She required a bit more finesse…until I ascertained what I needed to about her suitability, at least.

The half-filled cup on the ledge of her desk caught my attention. Casually, I leaned over and picked it up, turning it in my hands. "It seems our arrival interrupted your morning routine somewhat abruptly," I hazarded the guess, thinking that, somehow, she wasn't the type to leave dishes lying untidily about. At least not outside the privacy of her quarters. I thought she'd be more disciplined about cleanliness in a space where her subordinates might happen by. Again she raised a silent – and, I noted, rather elegantly arched – eyebrow and said nothing.

I'd guessed correctly then. Tilting the glass, I sniffed delicately at the alien concoction. Pretending to give it my full focus, and in reality aware of her every inhalation of breath, every flicker of expression that she probably thought she was successfully hiding from me.

"Rather earthy smelling," I observed aloud, observing her keenly from the corner of my eye. I lifted the cup slightly. "What is it?"

Janeway hesitated only briefly, clearly annoyed at my taking control, redirecting the focus of our interaction…and then allowed me to turn the conversation.

Wisely.

"Coffee," she supplied, and as she matched my conversational tone, her eyes sparkled subtly with just a hint of…yes, that was pleasure. Before I could ask, she elaborated, "It's a natural and very mild stimulant."

"How is it made?" I asked, not because I cared, but because the look on her face while she discussed the beverage lit up her countenance considerably, and this made her even more pleasant to look upon.

I did have some time to kill before Prax completed his inspection.

"Traditionally, preparation involves allowing hot water to flow through the beans, which grow on plants. But in this case – it's made from the components of my replicator."

I smirked at that. Pounced on the opening.

"Of course," I acknowledged, at once remembering the reason for the rueful note in her voice. "Being so far from home, you don't have access to the real thing anymore, do you?" I knew I was rubbing it in that she was so far from her home, this _gaharay_ traveler. It was at once a subtle dig and, also, a reminder that I had the power to prevent her from _reaching_ that home.

Those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed. I thought I detected a hint of grey in them now that I looked fully at her, and I chuckled softly. What I'd already observed of her told me she found her present situation utterly intolerable. I imagined that she hated her present powerlessness with as much intensity as I enjoyed it. I leaned against the edge of her desk, deceptively casual. "I think I should like to taste it…what do you say you get us each a cup?" I jerked my head, indicating toward the replicator unit to my right, at the far side of the room.

I knew full well it was low, but something about her unshakable confidence compelled me to taunt her; I couldn't resist such a delicious opportunity to demean her by having her serve my beverage.

There was no way she could politely refuse me. She knew it. And what was more, I could tell by the sudden forward thrust of her chin that she knew that I knew it, too. I didn't bother to conceal my triumph but gloated openly.

She battled briefly with her annoyance before conceding the victory. "Of course, Inspector," she practically purred, in what I knew to be a forced musical tone. I watched her turn precisely, pivoting on the heel of her black boot, and make her way to the replicator unit. Automatically, Brex moved to shadow her; he would ensure that any commands she entered into the replicator unit were harmless.

And, as she faced away from me, I openly admired the view of her slim backside and the tantalizing way her hips moved from side to side as she walked. The absolute regality with which she bore herself, even in the midst of this belittling errand, made me want to grab her, slam her against the wall, and…

She turned, too soon, and caught me ogling her.

_Damn it_, I swore fervently to myself, seeing the confusion that clouded her eyes give way to cool recognition. For an instant, she appeared surprised. Shocked and taken aback. But then she caught the self-castigation reflecting in my face – she _must_ have – for she didn't bother to hide her mildly amused smirk before turning to order the beverage specifications.

I was angry enough at her insolence, at her gall to appear completely unflustered by my appraisal, to seriously contemplate wiping the arrogant look off of her pretty little face, something I knew I could do easily and in any number of ways. _Why, I could have her begging in short order_.

I was too disciplined to allow any of that to show again. Later I could indulge myself – and damned well would – but for now…

She was heading back to me, crossing the space between us quickly. Brex followed close behind her, but at my glare he moved swiftly to retake his post by the doors.

Approaching the desk, Janeway offered me a mug. This time, steam billowed forth from inside both cups. A warm beverage, then. I hadn't expected that. I also noticed that she _still _did not seem fearful of me, even though she couldn't have misread the lust in my eyes just a moment ago. Rather, her concern was for my soldiers and their reactions to her approaching me._ So_, I gathered, surprisingly pleased, _either she hasn't considered what I might DO about that lust, or she isn't entirely opposed to the idea. _

Normally, I wouldn't care less whether or not a woman that I want desires me in return. Normally, it's all the same to me. Whether they struggle or simper or not has never had any bearing on my own pleasure…both scenarios have their own unique appeal.

Kathryn Janeway was anything but normal, anything but ordinary. The confident strength she projected made me relish what I now knew I would do to her later, once she had served her purpose. That she might have wanted me back at that moment would only make humiliating her all the more satisfying.

It was a warming, confidence-restoring thought. My charming smile resurfaced as I reached out to her – _past the proffered mug _– and saw her tense automatically.

Grinning, I took the other mug, the cup she'd clearly meant for herself. At her unspoken query, I supplied, "In case you poisoned mine. As you can well imagine, my job can make me rather…unpopular. I have to take a _few_ precautions, you understand?" There was a twitch of…something…at the corner of her mouth, probably annoyance, as I took a triumphant sip–

And nearly choked, asphyxiated at the unexpected bitterness of the scalding liquid. I did my best to cover it, but really, it was impossible to cover the violent coughing and wheezing of liquid seeping into places that only air should venture, and to my chagrin, she noticed.

_Of course she noticed_, I fumed, watching her bury her grin in her cup and swallow hers easily – with relish, even. And then it was clear what the twitch had been, too.

She knew exactly what would happen when I tasted the foul stuff. Immediately, I was enraged. Warred again with retaliating against her insufferable gall…

But then she treated me to the sound of her laughter for the first time, and it was somehow _almost_ worth the embarrassment and distress it had cost me to hear it. I waved my men back, who had become concerned at my reaction to the beverage, and stared hard at her, which only seemed to spur her on to more laughter. Her uniquely blue – yes, blue, I must have been mistaken before – blue eyes glittered enticingly, and the husky quality of that laugh was something so inexplicably sensual that I didn't want it to stop…

Without knowing why, exactly, I found myself looking at it from her perspective…seeing the situation from outside of myself and understanding her amusement. The picture I'd presented. The confidence I usually carry myself with shattered in one swallow of a seemingly innocuous beverage. My assumption that it would be sweet, and the cost of that assumption, which she'd allowed because I hadn't asked.

The hard lines of my face cracked, softened. I found I had to smile myself, and I didn't think I could _ever_ recall doing that before. Self-deprecating humor isn't my style; it doesn't have to be – I can usually have anyone bold enough to mock me killed.

Experimenting with the concept, I coughed openly on the heels of another violent tickle in my chest, not bothering to attempt to conceal the obvious anymore, and at the sheepish quality of the grudging grin I allowed her – a gift she would possibly not understand fully for some time – she rewarded me with another hearty chuckle.

And, better, with the slightest softening of her own defenses for the first time. Softer, she was…

Twice as compelling. The coughing had stopped, and I was able to speak again. "You drink this _voluntarily_?" I demanded, shaking my head in unfeigned disbelief.

"Every day." Her smile, when genuine, lit up her face breathtakingly.

"How do you _stand_ it?" I asked, wondering if humans could really have such drastically different taste buds.

She waved a hand. Apparent dismissal. "It's an acquired taste, Inspector. You learn to appreciate it over time. And you _are_ the one who wanted to try it – you didn't ask what it tasted like," she reminded me pointedly.

I had to admit that I hadn't.

Then she seemed to take sudden sympathy. "I can get you something else. Something a bit sweeter?"

The offer was a considerate one, I noted, automatically suspicious. Especially considering that I'd just tried to demean her by asking her to serve it in the first place. It was strangely…kind.

But then I realized that her diplomatic skills had been turned on, full force.

_She's manipulating me_, I wasn't altogether so uncommon among _gaharay_ leaders during an inspection. What I found noteworthy was that she did it passably well. And coming from a master manipulator such as I, well, that was a compliment indeed. It was _I_ who ought to have been manipulating _her_. _An equal?_ I wondered again.

This meeting was not going at all as I had planned. She was supposed to be in tears. Distraught. Begging me for mercy.

She stood proud. Holding her ground, and wrangling small concession after small concession from me – whether she knew that or not.

I shook my head against her offer. Not wanting to be indebted to her in any way, if I could help it. "No, thank you, Captain," I demurred. "I'm sure that, given time, I can grow to…er…_appreciate_ it, as you have." I forced down more of the vile stuff to illustrate my resolve. If she could drink it, so could I!

I swallowed the wince along with the bitter brew.

"If you insist. Inspector." She managed to make the title sound like a curse, reminding me that I had far from won her over.

_Am I _TRYING_ to win her over_? _What in the seven hells FOR? _

Annoyed, with myself and with her, I left her standing there and reclaimed her chair. _My chair, now._

She stiffened just a bit, her smile fading.

_Good_.

"What did you mean by 'given time'?" she pressed shrewdly, before I could open with another line of inquiry. "Will your warships be escorting us through this entire sector?"

I choked down more brown liquid. _She's right_, I mused. _The stuff does become more tolerable after a while. Or perhaps my taste buds are simply on overload from the assault. _I set the cup down in front of me, deciding I'd had enough to have passably saved face. Smiling at her yet again.

Coldly this time. "I never said we were leaving at all, Captain."

She tilted her head back to scrutinize me, and _Voyager's_ illumination played along the highlights of her shiny hair. _Such interesting hair_, I reflected absently. _It's hard to call it just one color_. She placed her hand flat atop her cup, resting it pointedly. I noticed her hands were slender, delicate, though her fingers were long. They were not young, or obsessively manicured, by any means, but they were fragile in structure.

So was her wrist, as it peeked out from under the edge of her sleeve. Unbidden, images of pinning that tiny wrist down, of stripping her and revealing more of that oh-so-white flesh, until I could see all of her, played through my traitorous brain. _She'd show her fear then, _I decided, automatically trying to picture the terrified look that would cross her lovely face, and cause those remarkable eyes to widen as she realized my intent… Excited by the image, by the very notion, I pictured her fighting me – losing of course – as I asserted my dominance over her…

As I took what I wanted from her.

But I was not some adolescent soldier who couldn't control his hormonal impulses, and my mind is…_generally_…well disciplined. I didn't allow the fantasy to distract me for long.

I cursed myself that it existed at all and scowled inwardly.

She watched me in those few seconds, but I knew I hadn't betrayed an inkling of my desire that time. She must have been confused by the intense way I stared at her, but her face was a mask of neutrality also. When she spoke, her tone, too, was a study in indifference.

"I don't think we'd be standing here, having this cozy little chat if you really wanted _Voyager_, Inspector." She was right, of course, and I mentally awarded her a few points for the shrewd deduction. "You'd have removed and detained us by now, and we'd be setting course for a detention center."

_Well_, I thought. _Good for her. She's obviously been doing some research of her own_.

But it was my game, not hers. My space and my rules – not hers.

_She can't win_.

It well past time to rattle that solid composure of hers. Evenly, I drawled, "And just how…Captain Kathryn Janeway…do you know that we haven't?" I watched her eyes flicker. Drank in the slow, deliberate upturn of one of those brows and took my time with laying the bait. "We've been in your ready room for some time now, and–"

The doors hissed apart and spit out…

_Prax. _

_Damn the man._ He has what must be the worst sense of timing in the star-forsaken galaxy. _And I was just on the verge of making her squirm…_

Prax assumed a standard military stance a few paces behind her but looked to me. He opened his mouth, delivered his line exactly as he had a hundred times before – same wording, same tone. If Prax's voice could even be accused of _having_ a tone.

"We've completed our inspection of the vessel. There are no telepaths aboard."

_What_? Of course there were! Had she not…? But she must have…! Had I been mistaken? My gaze snapped to her, watching her reaction to the announcement sharply.

Janeway lowered her chin, afforded me the courtesy of hiding her tiny smile at least a little.

_Bitch, _I fumed.

Though, in retrospect, I'm not sure if I'd meant her or Prax.

"However," he continued smugly, "their sensors indicate they deviated from their assigned course." An expectant glint shone in his eyes at the last announcement.

Ah. I leaned forward, deliberately running the tip of my index finger over the smooth edge of her interface terminal. Because now, I had an even larger problem than my accursed attraction to the woman before me.

Prax truly hadn't found the telepaths. If he had, I'd have known _before_ he entered the room. _Which means_, I deduced, my mind working quickly behind the confident mask I continued to project, _that Voyager's crew is a good deal cleverer than even I had hoped_.

Somewhere at the distant boundaries of my consciousness, I was aware of Prax's monotonous voice droning on as he continued his recommendation. "Imperative twelve, Codicil six twenty-six: all _gaharay_ vessels which deviate from prescribed flight vectors will be impounded…"

I refused to believe those telepaths were gone – and, at any rate, where _could_ they have gone? _Nowhere, _I concluded with final certainty. _That freighter is tiny, smaller even than Voyager. Logically, those telepaths are concealed somewhere on this ship; I'm sure of it!_

I WAS sure.

More than annoyance surged through me – more than anger, really. The inconvenience of having my careful plans altered, without my consent, enraged me. I knew I would have Prax's insufferable disapproval to contend with later. _His disapproval means nothing to me_, I reminded myself.

But to have my plans delayed by an arrogant _gaharay_ woman_…_no_…_to have Prax _know_ it…was unacceptable. The anger seethed, boiling dangerously near the surface of my careful control. Anger…and undeniable admiration. How had she managed it? Where were those telepaths?

Still, I maintained my pleasant countenance, even as my voice lowered into a calculated octave of menace. "Captain?" I prompted, rising again to slowly circle around the desk and approach her.

I exerted a firmer control over my uncertainty, dipping once more into my reserve built by ages of training. _I'll find them soon enough_, I decided, stilling internally. _There are only so many places they could be hidden._ The full measure of my attention pivoted outward toward the _gaharay_ leader as she prepared her response to Prax's damning indictment.

And I already knew how I was going to find them. Her altering course was simply the excuse I needed to explain my methods to her later.

Janeway never even batted an eyelash. There she stood, caught in the violation of _at_ _least_ one of our strictest regulations, and she hadn't missed a beat. The coffee cup rested between her white hands, and those hands did not shake as she lowered them to waist level. "The course alteration was minor, Inspector. It was a navigational error, due to a glitch in _Voyager's_ main computer processor. The moment we were alerted to the problem, we corrected it." The lies slipped from her tongue so naturally. So easily. I was again impressed. She stood her ground. Gave little indication of the fear that must have been working through her – if she had an iota of sense in her head.

I allowed the smile to slip from my lips, careful to dim the light of anticipation that must have shone in my eyes as I shook my head sadly. "I understand, Captain. These things _will _happen aboard starships, won't they?"

Purposefully, I inserted a tiny pause – a pause in which I was able to note the slight softening of the lines around her battle-ready blue eyes – before striking my blow. "But I'm afraid you've violated protocol. You _did_ receive a copy of all Imperial codes and regulations at the conclusion of your last inspection?"

The lines tightened almost imperceptibly again, and I experienced a subtle sense of empowerment at the knowledge that I'd finally created at least that small crack in this strange woman's defenses. "Of course, Inspector," she acknowledged. "But surely you agree that it's unreasonable to expect–"

"I'm sorry, Captain," I interrupted ruefully. "Truly I am, but your fate is sealed. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

"Our fate?" The unaffected confidence had dimmed. I said nothing. Waiting. Watching. Counting the fractions until she felt compelled to press, "What do you mean, Inspector? You can't intend to confiscate _Voyager_ over an innocent mistake." Her eyes narrowed when I reached out to take the cup from her hands. For the first time, I detected a hint of true alarm beneath the icy cool exterior, and it heightened my own sense of anticipation as I turned away from her slightly to set the mug aside.

It was intentional on my part that I not be facing her for my next words – I didn't think I could trust myself to play the part of sympathy just yet.

"No, Captain. As this wasn't a willful offense, I have another option available to me, to be used at my discretion, but I'm afraid it can be quite…unpleasant." I so wanted to see her face at _that_ admission, but still could not trust myself. "I will do my best to ensure that you retain your dignity – in so far as your crew is concerned. Prax." I managed to face her again, the appropriate regret lining my facial features as I inclined my head at the man waiting behind her. He'd been leaning so far forward in his anticipation that his considerable bulk had been teetering dangerously, and I nearly laughed outright before I caught myself, even as he lunged forward with the deceptive swiftness I have come to admire in his larger frame.

I met her widening eyes, relishing every detail of her open shock at the steely grip of my lieutenant's arm, which wrapped itself about her torso. In an instant, he'd pulled her firmly against himself, quite effectively pinioning her arms to her sides, and expertly dodging her instinctive, backwards kicks. He'd been that calculated in his movements, that unexpected by her.

Hey eyes flashed fire of hottest intensity at me from across the space between us. Dangerous, warning fire. She locked her sights on me as Prax dragged her away from the desk, edging her out into the open space in anticipation of my next move, and she demanded, "What the _hell_ do you think you're–"

His free hand clamped over her mouth, silencing the no-longer-inscrutable woman with ease. As hard as she wriggled, bucked, and squirmed, Janeway of course was unable to dislodge the strong limbs now immobilizing her. Nor did she meet with success in attempting to twist free of the hand blocking her speech.

Brex, having moved to assist his superior, could not resist smirking at her obvious distress. I was envious; I burned to release my own laughter, but rank has its drawbacks. I had to play this part perfectly, or risk setting myself up for permanent failure. Risk losing the wormhole – and all of the glory its destruction could bring me.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

Though it kills me to admit my negligence, my concern had never been for my_ own_ safety. I never saw it coming. Not until the last second, when I read the hidden instruction to his subordinate in Kashyk's dark eyes…but by then it was far too late. And it was over before it even began.

Looking back, I can't help cringing: I'm sure Starfleet Command would have been oh so proud to see one of their decorated captains taken so pathetically unawares. Shock, followed closely by pure rage at their gall, flooded into me as the steely grip of the lieutenant's arm wrapped itself around my middle, squeezing hard. In no time at all, he'd pulled me firmly against himself, pinning my arms to my sides, and I was trapped.

I fought to keep control, knowing my eyes were widening beyond the scope of the careful stoicism I'd spent so much effort projecting until this moment. Fought to determine their intentions with these inexplicable actions and wondered what this meant for the ship as a whole. I locked eyes with the inspector, knowing this was ultimately his doing.

"What the _hell_ are y–" Prax's free hand clamped over my mouth, and I could have phasered both my assailant _and_ his commander with relish. It was mortifying, maddening, to be so effectively silenced, and in such a demeaning fashion, at that.

Admittedly, I ought to have relaxed the second I realized the overwhelming strength of the lieutenant binding me, but something deep within me refused to acknowledge defeat so easily. In a burst of endorphin and adrenaline-powered purpose, I writhed like a madwoman, furiously squirming and kicking backward against any sensitive parts of my captor's anatomy that I could connect with, but each hard strike of the heels of my boots gained me nothing but soft, muted grunts from the man behind me. And despite my intense, best efforts, I couldn't dislodge the strong limb now immobilizing me so effectively. My hands twisted at my sides, scrambling to find some purchase to release his grip, but it held. Nor did I meet with any success in attempting to twist free of the hand blocking my speech.

The guard who'd shadowed me to the replicator earlier circled around and into my line of vision. Drawing my fractured attention. He couldn't resist smirking at my obvious distress, and I added him to the list of targets to be used for phaser practice later.

He dodged the hard kicks I aimed at his mid-section, creeping closer to my side each second. I had no idea what this guard with the sinister grin wanted from me, but I knew instinctively I wouldn't like it. Not until he seized my left arm, raising it as far as Prax's solid grip would allow, did exhaustion and common sense finally move me to cease my wild struggles against the Devoran lieutenant's superior strength.

I went still, noting how loud and ragged my breathing echoed in the ensuing silence as I tried to suck in oxygen around the thick leather of Prax's glove.

When he went for my arm, I didn't understand. Not for long, battling minutes did I comprehend what in the raging cosmos he could possibly want with my arm, of all parts of me, but the other guard rolled the black material of my uniform as far up my arm as it would go, pinching my skin painfully with his final attempts, but I was making no more protest by that point. Because I'd been brought to accept by their too-effective hold on my limbs that, whatever was going to happen next, I wouldn't be able to stop it in my current position. It was better by far to save my little remaining strength for the instant I was released from the lieutenant's hold. If they plan on releasing me at all…

It was certainly looking more and more like a mistake to have decided to traverse Devore space.

Finally, with a snarl of impatience, the guard had to resort to yanking the sleeve back down to my wrist, and then tearing the fabric apart in order to expose whatever part of my flesh he so urgently sought. He used a blade I hadn't seen drawn to make the initial tear, but once done, he had little trouble afterward. And all the while, I alternated my contemptuous, murderous glare between the guard manhandling me and the inspector, who made a great show of not being able to meet my eyes.

Not until then, when the other, unnamed Devore with the smirking face had my lower arm completely bare and immobilized in his too-strong grip, had Kashyk deemed me worthy of notice again. He shifted his lean form, twisting to face my silent wrath. "Forgive me," he requested absurdly, in a falsely remorseful tone while meeting my glare.

Forgive him, hell! All this over a minor _course change_? I wanted to demand. But of course couldn't with the hand covering my mouth. And then my eyes lit on what the inspector was holding in _his_ hands for the very first time.

I couldn't help it; I stared in apprehension at the large, vicious-looking syringe he now held up in front of me. I hadn't seen him produce it, as he'd been facing away from me again, and I had no idea where he'd gotten it – or what was _in_ it.

My blood ran entirely cold in that moment as the inspector approached me with that syringe, and the other guards' actions suddenly made perfectly horrifying sense.

"I assure you, this gives me no pleasure, Captain. But protocol _must_ be observed," he lamented.

It took everything in me not to fight like hell again, but common sense dictated that I allow him to continue by that point…if whatever that bright blue substance was missed its mark and hit something it shouldn't, the cosmos only knew what the physical consequences could be. And, most importantly, it had occurred to me by then that maybe, if I accepted this "punishment" without further resistance, it might spare my crew some further trauma. _Who knows what this volatile alien soldier might do to my people in retaliation for any trouble I cause during this…procedure? _

As I'd proven to myself already, _I_ certainly wasn't a particularly gifted predictor of the inspector's behavior. And I couldn't take that chance.

_He might mean to kill me. _The thought did cross my mind in those last instants._ Here, now. Just like this. This might be the last image I'm ever going to see. Him. THIS man's smug face… _

He could have been intending it, and I had no way of knowing otherwise.

_Chakotay was right_, I couldn't help admitting pointlessly to myself, either. _He was right to warn me against crossing Devore Space._ Once again, his caution had proven grounded. Accurate. Once again, I probably should have taken his apprehension more seriously before deciding not to opt for that longer route. For deciding it was worth the risk inherent in the shortcut. I saw that now. I saw all of it quite clearly in that moment.

Unfortunately, too late.

None of that meant, however, that I had to sacrifice any more of my dignity while in this man's presence. And I absolutely _refused_ to make so much as another sound, or to as much as flinch, even as the thin metal penetrated my skin with a sharp pinching sensation, then continued to drive deep within my bulging vein.

For my part, I focused only upon communicating my contempt for the inspector and his methods through the heat of my stare, which he met with infuriating calm.

* * *

**Kashyk**

**

* * *

**

"Forgive me," I intoned, proud of my sincere-sounding, remorseful tone and meeting her clearly outraged, piercing blue – or was it grey? – glare.

That glare morphed quickly to concern – then even expanded to resemble the fear I'd fantasized about earlier – when I held up the specially prepared syringe I'd had nestled snugly in my uniform pocket. "I assure you, this gives me no pleasure, Captain. But protocol _must_ be observed."

Placing a tentative hand against the thin white forearm revealed beneath the sleeve of her jacket, I had no trouble in locating a large blue vein. It was all I needed.

Her eyes flickered subtly, but still, she refused to make a sound as the thin metal penetrated her smooth white skin and continued to drive deep within her.

The viscous liquid took a few seconds to disperse within her bloodstream, as was typical of this particular blend of chemicals. I had time to replace the protective tip at the top of the spent syringe before the sweet sound of her agony, in the form of a muffled scream, filled the alien room.

I fought the jolt of arousal within me as her scream came again, echoing as a tortured moan through the thick hand covering her mouth.

And it was all I could do to keep from smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

At first, I felt nothing, as I watched him replace the protective tip at the top of the spent syringe and place it in his pocket…and then it hit me, full-force.

And that was the moment in which I left reality as I knew it behind.

_The fire consumes me. It burns me, from the inside out. I've never known such physical pain, such agony. It sears through my veins, beginning in my arm, but then quickly _– _much too quickly _–_ ravages outward through my chest, and further, too rapidly envelops all of me. My last coherent thought, rising above the monumental tide of anger and shock, is actually one of gratitude toward my tormentors…_

…_Thank __GOD __he had the presence of mind to cover my mouth and keep the crew from hearing…_

Because I could not keep myself from screaming.

_Furiously spasming muscles join the symphony of my screeching nerve-endings, tensing and flexing involuntarily until I realize that I'm writhing in agony. More soldiers are needed to keep me still, to keep me from ripping free of the unmerciful brute strength of the arm which binds me tightly and the smothering, leather__hand that…_

_The captain, I realize dumbly, is melting away _–_ scorched, crisped and mutilated by this chemical inferno that has become me. She's burning, and with her goes the steel-enforced control and mental discipline that I have painstakingly erected about me. _

_And suddenly, I panic._

_I panic through the agony, the mind-numbing sheets of pure flame frying my nerves. I panic at the sensation of flames licking inhuman levels of heat at me, stimulating pain beyond comprehension. _

_A pain that's beyond endurance. A pain beyond even the captain's impenetrable defenses._

_And when she's gone, my shield of non-feeling is gone, and I'm vulnerable to any and all emotional assaults, and I know it. I know it, just as I know what's coming next… _

_In any time of isolation…any time the lights go out and I have to face the darkness alone is when THEY come to haunt me._

_They don't disappoint, not even now, when I'm battling the near-insanity of this torturous substance – they come. _

_The faces of those no longer with us take her place _–_ the captain's place _–_ surrounding me, screaming at me. They demand an explanation, demand penance, demand that life be restored to them. I can't give them any of these, the things they so rightly deserve. Yet they don't accept this. They press into me _–_ circling, accusing, condemning. Men and women, God, so many of them, most of them lost that first day, during the hectic transfer to the Delta Quadrant, via the caretaker's meddling array… _

_Most of them I never even had the chance to know…they scream at me for that, too. My rightful first officer, Cavit, is there in front of the screeching mob. He's leading the charge against my sanity… _

_And throughout it all _–_ this hellish inferno of flame and heat and stark, uncharacteristically agonized terror _–_ I'm watching __– __though not really seeing __–__ the hawk-like profile of the man who has done this to me. His mock regret causes those unfamiliar features to slacken. I stare wildly back at him, and in those moments… __I __**hate**__._

_I hate him for doing this, for ripping away the captain, who is both my strength and my oppressor. I hate him for revealing me to his too-knowing eyes, eyes that can't help but gleam with the light of triumph…_

_The pain changes _–_ sharpens, if that's even possible. _

_Oh, for the love of _–_ I can't do this; it's too much! Surely, this is beyond the level of human endurance! If this new pain continues for much longer, I'm going to pass out from the agony. I'll pass out, and I'll welcome it; otherwise, I may lose my mind completely…_

_And in these moments, I hope maybe I'll die instead, because the faces are starting to form in front of me, and I'm never quite sure which one of them is going to come at me first… And it's the worst one, of course. Almost the worse one. There's Harry. Sweet, gentle, innocent Harry, one of the brightest spots illuminating this dark journey I've condemned us all to travel. But his skin, his eyes are sallow, his complexion grey, his dark, lively eyes devoid of any human warmth. He's holding something out to me _–_ a small bundle _– _it's no gift, I know that by now._ _I __don't want it. Whatever it is that he's offering, I know that I don't want it. I want so desperately to turn away from the unrelenting torrent of foreboding apprehension drowning out my silent protests… _

_But I can't turn away; I'm paralyzed. I gaze helplessly at that bundle _–_ at the small, diminutive form of a newborn baby: a child with three perfect little horns decorating her forehead. Beautiful, newborn Naomi is dead because I killed her, because I failed to protect my crew__–_

_The hand over my mouth slips as I wrench my head away from it for the first time, and a scream echoes sharply in the air, only barely muted at the last second as leather slips into my mouth, and then the hand clamps back down over my lips, stifling the sound._

_It's in this second that I realize I'm crying. That tears are literally streaming, in a torrent down my face, because none of it is anything I can ever undo now. But that fact that I'm crying, that I've been pushed to that level of loss of control, in front of the man responsible for pushing me there combines with the pain, with the ghostly, shadowed images, and then HIS face takes precedence again. _

_Through tear-soaked eyes I see that face _–_ the alien face I'll tear into shreds if I can just break free _–_ strangely suffused with _real_ concern now _–_ a sympathy that can't be faked. And he's reaching out to me, practically shouting something I can't comprehend… but the pain is just too much and I can't hold on…_

_Finally, sweetly, and mercifully, those relentless ghosts of the past DO relent, and they let me go and I sag in gratitude, in relief as consciousness flees with them, the pain flares, and then I'm sliding into… _

…_Darkness… _

…_Nothing_

_

* * *

_

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

I only actually saw him on a few occasions, yet every time, he managed to send icy tingles shooting up and down my spine.

He reminded me of the oiliest Cardassian. Obnoxious. Preening. Insidious.

He reminded me of the haughtiest Romulan. Controlled. Calculating. Cold.

He reminded me a little of Kathryn. Curious. Confident. Relentless.

They shouldn't go together. Any one of those things alone was threat enough. The combination was dangerous.

He scared the hell out of me. I don't mind admitting it.

The first time Kashyk ordered her into her ready room I didn't like it, but as I hadn't really seen the man, I experienced only a vague sense of unease.

"_Captain Janeway, please follow me."_

She did, after exchanging a quick look with me. Frankly, I was a little surprised the humorless inspection team didn't use it as an excuse to shoot her.

Facing forward while in line was required and, of course "deviation from this or any other inspection protocols" would not be "tolerated". My ribs still throbbed from their "lesson" in protocol. I almost looked to Tuvok, to see if he shared my concern or if my hunches were getting away from me, before I remembered he was in transporter stasis and that I had to keep staring straight ahead…

I forced myself to relax. Of course he'd want to deal directly with her. It was only natural; she's the captain. But the knowing snickers several younger soldiers aimed at the closed doors soon filled me with dread. Especially when the one called Prax went to join them. _Two against one_, was all I could think, sweating in my uniform, _she wouldn't stand a chance_. I was only too aware of the sheer number of them on the bridge – of the size of their ridiculously displayed weapons. I didn't know until later that there were two guards in there with them, too. I hadn't been allowed to watch them leave the room.

I alwayshate it when a member of the crew is separated from the rest of us by any hostile force. It didn't necessarily have to be her for me to have been as uneasy as I was over the course of the next hour…any one in that room…alone, with these soldiers and guns this size…would have had me just as nervous.

I'd have been handling it a little better if I at least had a _clue_ as to what was going on in there. Or even on the rest of the ship. But I didn't.

We were scanned. Carefully. Thoroughly. Almost invasively. Then ordered to face the opposite direction and scanned again while the remaining Devoran soldiers busied themselves with tearing off consoles, emergency hatches and so on. Watching them, their zeal and ruthless determination had me silently thanking my ancestors that Kathryn and B'Elanna had come up with such an ingenious method of hiding our impromptu guests. From the thoroughness of the invasive search, our earlier attempts to conceal just _Voyager's_ three telepaths might easily have failed. And now we had the Brenari to consider, too.

The minutes ticked by slowly as we stood in line – once we were permitted to rise again for personal inspections, that was. It was at some point while trying to take in as much of the soldier's movements, their concerns and focal points for future reference, all while forcing my eyes to stare straight ahead, that I was understandably alarmed at the sudden commotion, shouting that could be heard from within the ready room.

The doors had opened. Two guards I hadn't had any idea were in there in the first place came barreling out, looking…I didn't know what that look was, but it was intense, and all eyes unmistakably turned to them as they rushed over to the two Devore closest to them, the two that were inspecting Tactical and the science station behind it, and began muttering furiously, gesturing towards the ready room.

That wasn't so much what concerned me – not by itself. What set my heartbeat skyrocketing into the next dimension was the way that, the second those doors had opened, the sound of yelling – angry shouting – could be heard spilling out onto the bridge from inside.

The doors sealed shut right away without me being able to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside…but I could still hear it. The hard male voice…berating _someone_…was definitely enraged. Provoked and bordering out of control. And of the mutters of the guards, as two of them went for the turbolift, another called for a beam out to his ship and a few more approached to find out what was going on, I only caught the words "Janeway", "problem", and "furious".

"What's happening?" I demanded of one of the guards as he moved to rush by me. My adrenaline spiking to battle-ready levels. "What's going on?"

He gave me a half snarl and didn't even bother telling me to shut up as he kept walking without replying.

None of us were bothering to pretend to stare straight ahead anymore. Tom and the rest of them were leaning forward, alternating their worried, shocked faces between me and the doors. To the soldiers. And back to me.

Obviously more than a little worried, and so the hell was I. Kathryn was in there – by herself. She had no backup, and there was at least one out of control Devore officer in there with her.

"We have to _do_ something," Tom muttered to me, his tone insistent. "What if she needs help in there?"

I knew it, didn't need to be told that, but whatever I did had to be calculated to bring the least amount of retaliation down on the rest of them, which was the _only_ thing that had me pausing as the voice in the ready room continued. And _damn it_, even with their clear distraction right now, no way was I, or anyone else, going to be able to make it into that room to help her before the guards flanking us all stopped me…there was no question they'd be able to cut me down before I got there. There were just too many of them. And to do anything, to call out to the computer for help, to organize a rush on the ready room doors…any of it was quite possibly going to put the ship in danger, too.

The soldiers were near panicking by my estimate, even as the voice rose, and a crashing sound was heard. And to get past the soundproofing on the ready room, for us to be able to still hear the commotion in there at all, even after the doors were shut…

The original guards rushed back into the ready room, the doors opening, and the sound exploded out onto the bridge again, hadn't dimmed…

"–_to you, I will rip out your_–"

The doors pressurized shut, cutting off the shouting…and I made a snap decision then.

"Tom…" I growled low, out of the corner of my mouth, "_no one_ moves from this line, I don't care what happens. Do you understand me?"

He started to argue, not following yet, but I ignored him. Pure instinct moved me to bolt forward, out of line, and toward Kathryn's office. I might not make it, but short of taking a swing at one of them, there was no other way I could think of to gain enough of their attention to _maybe_ be worth the notice of the one inside. To stop whatever was happening inside of that room.

It took them a few crucial seconds to notice me, and I made it several steps before anyone was turning in my direction, and all attention of our guests shifted unmistakably to me.

Didn't matter. If something happened – if she'd done something to truly anger these people – they would kill her, I knew, without a second thought.

I couldn't stand by and let that happen.

I took out two of them individually, before they adjusted their strategy and then three of them tackled me all at the same time, one of them diving to take out my legs from behind and the other two grappling to grip and restrain my swinging arms so I couldn't catch myself. I hit the ground hard under their combined weight, the breath slammed out of me, was effectively pinned, and I'd only made it a few steps closer to the ready room.

Winded, ribs screaming in agony and my chin shoved deep into the rough, carpeted fibers of the deck, I had long moments to review the relative stupidity of my desperate action.

I'd have done it again, given my options, but that wasn't going to absolve me of the consequences of what I'd just done, either. With no small amount of chagrin, I allowed for the realization that, if it had been any other member of the bridge crew that had done what I'd just done, he'd have been demoted in a heartbeat…with my full backing, too. But at least none of the rest of the crew moved, or if anyone tried, the rest of them had the sense to restrain their friends, and the result was that they stayed mostly in line from the sound of it, and that was all I could hope for.

And then, I could hear that the commotion had stopped. Inside the ready room and out. The sound of doors parting echoed across the bridge, but I couldn't tell which doors. The muzzle of the Devoran phaser-rifle physically shoving my face into the ground allowed for no other movement on my part, really. I was obliged to remain still until a pair of boots lined themselves up centimeters from my nose.

"Get him up," the lieutenant, Prax, suddenly sneered.

At least I'd gotten _his_ attention.

Once hauled to a standing position, the pain in my ribs throbbed even more harshly, but I didn't care. It certainly wasn't the worst injury I've ever had…and the shouting had definitely stopped, leaving in its stead that ominous, deafening silence I so hated.

"_Prax. Report._"

That voice – the one I already disliked – was disembodied and strangely tinny. And, noting the sharp edge in its tone, I realized with certainty what I'd only suspected before.

It was definitely the same voice I'd heard rising in the ready room. My blood went even colder at that confirmation. If the one in charge was the man so thoroughly upset with Kathryn…

"The idiot first officer cannot control himself, it seems." Those baleful eyes were suddenly alight with a distinctly anticipatory gleam as Prax unholstered his weapon. He sneered at me, snarling the words into his thick wristband. "I shall have to make an example of him."

_And you're just going to __HATE__to have to do it, too_, I thought, with no small amount of contempt. Already, the Devore were about on par with the Cardassians, in my book. The false sense of superiority, of entitlement, the perverse pleasure they took in inflicting pain…it all resonated just a bit too familiarly for my comfort.

My practiced ears were already strained to detect the telltale sounds of shifting limbs of my crew, and at the first indication of rustling clothing, I warned evenly, but loudly, "Anyone steps out of that line, and I'll make anything _they_ do to you seem like a Risan vacation."

There was subtle rustling after that, as though someone (and my money was on Paris and possibly Ayala) was still trying to restrain himself, or was being restrained by his neighbor, but thankfully, no one stepped out of line to "defend" me.

I'm known to be a man of my word.

Assuming I lived through this long enough to enforce my threat.

I'd forgotten that my warning would be overheard by the Devoran leader, of course. The soft chuckle traveling out from the lieutenant's communicator and spilling out onto the bridge reminded me all too unpleasantly that communication devices work both ways.

"_Prax, really – the poor commander was most likely alarmed by the commotion in the captain's office. It seems it's his job to ensure the welfare of his commanding officer. He was only doing his duty, as a good officer should, and he obviously has his priorities straight enough. I think we can forgo the summary execution, provided there are no further displays of insubordination." _

I couldn't assume the execution comment was a joke.

Prax scowled, even as I frowned. Did that mean they were essentially letting me _get away_ with what I'd just done?

It seemed so. And it didn't sit well with me.

_Why the hell am I suddenly being shown leniency?_ Nothing the Cardassians gave their prisoners ever came for free, and I found myself darkly wondering just what price this sly inspector's tender mercy would exact later.

And just who, exactly, was supposed to pay it?

"_Your captain is fine, Commander; you needn't worry. I'm afraid it was Prax who caused me to lose my temper._" I was only mildly relieved at that revelation, not entirely sure I believed him…and then I winced, anticipating Kathryn's reaction to my stupidity.

I didn't like that she hadn't spoken up yet. I didn't like it at all, actually…

"Can I speak with her to confirm that?" I asked evenly over the lieutenant's open comm. Reasonably, I thought.

Not particularly surprised when the answer was, _"When we're finished here, Commander. It shouldn't be too much longer now. In the meantime, remember that patience is a virtue…that someone in your position would do well to possess?"_

The comm. link snapped out, and we were once again cut off from all happenings inside of the ready room.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

I was floating. My head was heavy, my eyes leaden shut with unexpected exhaustion… But the burning was gone. The God-awful, nightmarish visions, hallucinations of crewmembers lost…it had all receded. I don't mind saying I could have wept with sheer relief for that alone.

It was quiet.

A profound peace settled throughout the fuzz and haze. There were hands soothing over me, stroking my arms, my face, my cheeks and forehead…cool hands: strong, but gentle. My eyes weren't cooperating, refused to open. And I had the strangest surety that I knew exactly who must be in the room with me, had the sensation that I'd just been talking with him a moment ago.

"Chakotay?" I called out softly, my brow puckering as I started to come up against the wrongness of the reality around me. And simultaneously realized how long it had really been since I'd been touched like this. Since it had occurred to me to allow it…or seek it.

The exquisite sensations ceased abruptly. With them faded the rare moment of unencumbered bliss and carefree tranquility I'd almost forgotten existed at all. It had been so long since I'd experienced the lack of ever-pressing responsibility…so long since I simply felt. Enjoyed.

I groaned aloud with the loss of contact, feeling the withdrawal of tactile pleasure like a physical ache inside of me and not proud of it, either.

"Captain." The man's voice, oddly amused, was unexpected. It did not belong to my first officer. "I trust, from your vocal responses, that you're returning to us?"

Not Chakotay. Not even Tuvok, or the doctor. Not a member of…

The realization jolted me awake as harshly as a pail of ice-water might have. The abrupt force of reality's return snapped open my protesting, tritanium-heavy eyelids to confront…

Kashyk, the Devoran Inspector. The man occupying my ship. The man responsible for the agony I'd just endured – the man who had had me held still while he injected me with liquid fire that had made me hallucinate and burn with agony and nearly lose my mind just now.

And the same man, apparently, who must have been so gently soothing me scant seconds ago…

_No. That must have been a drug-induced hallucination. No one was touching you at all; you're imagining things, Kathryn. _

Still, staring up into his smug but otherwise impassive face, I wasn't so sure. The only thing I was sure of was the seething, boiling mass of fury starting to build deep in the pit of my stomach as the memories of what had occurred in this room to lead us to this moment of confusion sprang back to me and I forced myself to focus on his face. His unfortunately handsome features seemed different from this new angle, as he stood over me…

"What the _hell_?"

I bolted upright, aware with a flash of unease that I'd been lying flat on the couch beneath my wide viewport. I suppressed a startled curse, too, as the sensation of evaporating perspiration on my bare skin – and the small bundle of black, red and gray on the floor – simultaneously alerted me to the additional fact that, somehow, I'd lost my uniform jacket and turtleneck.

Instantly, I was appalled. Obviously, I hadn't "lost" anything – my clothing, for whatever reason, had been removed from me while I was grappling with the effects of the unknown alien compound. And I was instantly ready to kill him for having had the _audacity_ to–

He appeared to read my thoughts.

"Do forgive me for taking the liberty of removing your outer garments, Captain," Kashyk intoned, his words descending the short distance between us to echo within my burning ears. He continued, the tone of his conceited voice conveying nothing likeactual repentance, "You were perspiring quite heavily, and your skin was nearly scalding to the touch. It was your own physician's recommendation."

Scalding to the touch._ Am I supposed to wonder why he would have been touching me in the first place? _The answer was clear enough. _Yes, of course I am._

The Devoran inspector was a master of manipulation: this much he'd already demonstrated. Now, he was using innuendo about what might have transpired while I was so out of it for the express purpose of unnerving me. I supposed it might have worked with others in the past. I, though, know the feel of this uniform, and every nuance of the way the cloth lies against my skin; nothing else had been removed – and then replaced – however carefully it may have been attempted. _I'd have known_.

I would have. And I'd damned well made a point of mentally checking myself over the second I'd realized I'd lost the jacket and shirt.

I had only seconds to regroup, and my personal discomfort meant _nothing_ in light of the notion that I'd clearly lost consciousness for a time longer than just a minute or two. How long, I couldn't even begin to speculate, but the guards were no longer present, and it'd been a sufficient length of time for me to have been carried to the couch and somewhat undressed – long enough for Kashyk to have contacted the doctor, apparently, and quite long enough for something of significance to have developed on the bridge – or worse, the cargo bay.

Long enough for the Devore to have likewise assaulted any number of my officers…

The captain had returned, full-force, sweeping in without announcement as if she'd never deserted me in the first place. _Ship and crew, Kathryn! Get up. What's been happening to Voyager while you were off in Never-Never Land?_ _What have they been doing to your people all this time?_

Depending on how long I'd been out, any number of things could have happened.

They could have found the telepaths.

I hoped that the last few seconds of silence while I pondered my situation had not seemed as lengthy a period of time to the inspector as it had to me. Weakness and hesitation had no place in this game. The very _last_ thing I could afford was to allow a single shred of my anxieties – personal or otherwise – to show through.

I wouldn't give the arrogant bastard the satisfaction of seeing just how deeply the position I'd found myself in had shaken me.

He stood close, perhaps half a meter from the couch. Swinging my legs around and off the side of the couch took a bit of concentration; it seemed the drug I'd been given had the aftereffect of turning my muscles to gelatin. But I was bound and determined to make it to my feet before engaging the inspector in a battle of wits and appearances. As it was, I already had the height disadvantage – as per usual. That was no reason, however, to cede what little ground I still held by remaining seated before him. It would force me to speak and look up to him from too inferior a tactical position.

And I had a good many questions for Inspector Kashyk. I was going to be standing, looking him in the eye when I asked them.

Infuriatingly, my attempts seemed to amuse him. He gave an incredulous little laugh, recognizing my intentions. "Please. There's no need to rise on _my_ account. Give yourself time to recover; I'm sure that must have been a disconcerting experience for you."

Steadfastly, stubbornly, I ignored that insufferable, sonorous voice and its taunting, boasting undertones. I tried to clear my mind of all the hideous images his drugs had conjured through the intense physical pain. And I refused to respond until I'd risen – especially as he plainly didn't think me capable of rising at all. I was determined to show this man nothing less than the true measure of a Starfleet captain_…even if it kills me. _

The uncontrollable trembling in my arms as I braced the palms of my hands flat against the edge of the cushion beneath me should have been warning enough. My legs were even worse than I'd anticipated: the instant I put any real weight on them, they buckled traitorously. To my utter mortification, I very nearly found myself pitching forward into the inspector's too-obviously expectant arms. Only by the grace of some benevolent, unseen force did I manage to catch and steady myself.

The unmistakable flash of admiration replacing the superiority in those dark eyes was worth the close call with humiliation – every bit of it, in fact.

"Thank you, Inspector, but I'm fine," I clipped out.

I _was _fine: remarkably so, in fact.

Considering.

Craning my stiff neck upwards, I pulled the undamaged turtleneck over my head to shield my bare arms and chest from Kashyk's view. Forcefully shaking off the sensation of his eyes following every movement I was making. The jacket, I knew, was ruined: I'd have to replicate a new one before reentering the bridge. Still, having once more donned some of the protective armor of my uniform, I had effectively eliminated another tactical liability. Only _then_ was I ready to take on Kashyk. Meeting that dark, focused gaze with all of the cool disinterest I didn't feel, I demanded first and foremost, "My crew? Have any of them been harmed while I was…out?"

I surprised him. It slipped out, past his tight control, and flitted across those hooded features. _Good._

For easily the tenth time throughout the course of our little encounter, the inspector raked those black eyes over me with an intense, appraising scrutiny. And, as I had before upon catching him so plainly assessing my…physical attributes…I felt a long-absent flutter in the pit of stomach. It was hard to call it either pleasant or unpleasant.

But the man _was_ finally beginning to rattle me with that look. It made me automatically even more wary and distrustful of his sharp, intuitive intelligence. _He could be acting. _The thought hadcrossed my mind. _This could simply be the Devoran equivalent of charm _–_ another form of manipulation, for all I know_. But I didn't think so. I trust my instincts. For the most part, they haven't failed me.

My instincts were also telling me that the inspector himself was fighting off the notion. For whatever reason, I sensed that he had no intention of pursuing the attraction he seemed to feel. That thought was the only comforting one to occur to me while standing in front of him.

Still, as I awaited his answer to my question, it was a difficult feat to maintain my cool front of calm control. Visions of lost crewmen persisted in floating across my line of sight, pale, transparent shadows of those I'd failed to protect. They clenched my weary stomach into tight knots of guilt, while the inspector's eyes bore into me as though he could somehow see through my hard exterior and directly into the hidden recesses of my mind.

_But then_, I reminded myself, with a bitter, inward little laugh, _he HAS done so, just now, while you were helplessly writhing in agony and despair_. It was an image I despised. Rejected, from the core of my very being.

"Answer me, Inspector." This time, there was no falsely conciliatory layer to my tone – it was unyieldingly firm, like the titanium alloy of _Voyager's_ hull. "Have any members of my crew been harmed?"

"They're quite well, Captain," he finally acknowledged, that supercilious smirk of his returning full force to match my strained dignity.

I decided I believed him, and relaxed automatically.

"Though I'm afraid you have me to thank for that."

_What's he talking about?_

"Oh?" I didn't allow so much as a single muscle to twitch. If you discounted the involuntary trembling of my legs.

The inspector didn't move either. As we squared off facing each other, he appeared more than comfortable with the distinct lack of distance between us. _Well that makes _one_ of us…_ But it was the higher ground of my two choices. Backing away wasn't an option as far as I was concerned. Not even after what he'd done: _especially_ after what he'd done.

I refused to be further intimidated, or even to give off the faintest appearance of it.

"It seems, in my concern over your intense reaction to our nerve stimulators, I forgot myself."

"Nerve stimulators? That's what you call that abominable, inhuman substance?" I clipped out as calmly as possible.

Somehow, the sterile term didn't at all do the insidious liquid had amounted to no less than torture.

He ignored me, and I fought to remain dispassionate, waiting for him to finish, holding fast to my contempt and refusing to analyze the memory I still maintained of those dark eyes widening in apparent alarm and even…sympathy.

"My shouting at Prax apparently alarmed your first officer."

My stomach jolted then – hard.

_Damn it. I can only imagine what Chakotay did then…_

It only occurred to me then that I'd no idea how the bridge crew was taking my prolonged absence. I allowed an eyebrow to rise quizzically. "Alarmed him?" What I wouldn't have given for a simple glass of water…my throat was so parched it wanted to stick to itself, and the new fear for my overprotective first officer's safety only served to make it worse. Damn Chakotay. If he'd gotten himself hurt –

Kashyk's eyes flickered, his gaze deceptively neutral. "He was agitated, to put it mildly."

I could only guess at how mildly he really was putting it.

What was certain, was that the inspector was trying to hide an obviously keen interest in my reaction to the news. I didn't like that he was so focused on my response to this particular topic, though I found it hard to say why, exactly.

"I'm told he had to be physically restrained."

_I wonder if Tuvok's still interested in that first officer position…_

He watched me every second, probing for any sign of apprehension or concern to betray my true feelings. I gave none, as my strength was returning with each passing moment, so he continued, turning at last and working his way over to my desk. As he moved, he made a point of stroking his now bared fingers over the thin railing which separated my desk area from the upper level.

Instead of relaxing with the increased distance he put between us, I was reminded of a cat that, having satisfactorily captured his prey, releases it only so that he might have the pleasure of pouncing again the instant his quarry attempts escape.

I didn't like the analogy, or that my traitorous mind had conjured it in the first place. I didn't like the strange things that image was doing to my insides…

_Get a hold of yourself, Captain._

"Prax wanted to make an example of him. I intervened on his behalf." He turned again, stopping flush with the desk to face me, and met my cold stare. This time, however, I was admittedly taken aback to note the characteristic arrogance seemed to have briefly deserted him. "And on your doctor's behalf, as well. He was also moved to defiance when I had him summoned to attend you – which I did because your body's reaction to those stimulators was clearly well beyond what was intended."

_What did he just say? When he did what?_

"I see," was all I let slip this time.

And I thought I was beginning to. _So he called the doctor, did he?_ The man was proving more and more curious. _One minute, he's injecting me with hellish compounds, and the next, he's having me cared for by my own physician. Just what sort of game is he playing here?_

I swallowed reflexively, letting myself move casually towards him in a display of what I hoped passed for confidence. "You summoned my chief medical officer?" I paused, realizing how much worse that would make things for me later, and I couldn't resist the urge to mock his cursed "compassion". "I'm sure you used the transporters, too, as you were so very _concerned_," I snapped back.

Even if the Devore _had_ cared enough about my welfare to make the attempt, Harry knew enough not to let them use the one in Transporter Room Two…

The inspector's response evaporated all anxiety, but left me nearly speechless in return. "As a matter of fact, Captain, I ordered my ship to lock onto the hologram's mobile emitter and beam him here, yes. Though he was thoroughly unsatisfied with the lack of equipment I allowed, he _did_ stop berating me for long enough to see you stabilized."

The unguarded, confused amazement that must have shown on my face almost mirrored that which I could have sworn I read in his. I was more than a little surprised that this xenophobic Devoran soldier had bothered to summon my physician at all, but to have him _transported?_ To go to all that trouble, to spare either my life or my dignity…

It confounded me. The consideration in that gesture did not at all line up with the utter ruthlessness Kashyk had otherwise displayed in catching me by complete surprise, and then injecting me with what he'd known damned well was going to be hellishly painful compounds in the first place.

I was grateful, to say the least, that I would be spared having to explain the doctor's presence to my senior staff, but in light of the hell I'd just endured at the same man's hands, I more than resented the implied debt of that gratitude. To reconcile the conflict, I decided that this was most likely part of some grander scheme to further erode my opposition, and I hardened myself quickly.

Just in time to be shocked by his next confession.

"I do regret it, Captain. Your body reacted unpredictably to our chemicals."

It was said quietly. With what I could have sworn was sincerity. With genuine remorse. And I stared at him. Once again, I was treated to that uncharacteristic glimpse of the man beneath the insufferable shield of conceit. It wasn't enough to erase the memories crawling, scratching, waiting at the edge of my conscious awareness, ready to consume me again the instant they had the chance. Wasn't nearly enough to compensate for his inexcusable behavior otherwise.

"And I regret, Inspector," I retorted, my jaw tightening with vivid remembrance of the level of pain he'd managed to produce in me, levels which I hadn't thought humanly possible before that moment, "that I cannot take you at your word. You could have chosen not to inject me with those stimulators at all…yet you opted not to exercise your discretion. That the results may have been other than what you intended doesn't absolve you from having to accept the consequences."

His lips twitched at the corners in a sad attempt at a smile. "Nonetheless, I regret it." He straightened. That veneer of conceit descending over him yet again. "But I'd advise you to get your crew under a tighter control. I won't be able to intervene for them again."

I resented the implication that my crew wasn't the most professional – I stopped myself right there, though. Had to, considering what he'd informed me had happened. Acknowledging to myself that there had been a lot of time passed to encompass those reactions he'd been so casually filling me in on. And that concerned me more than anything in this moment. What I needed to know was…

"Just how long _was_ I unconscious, Inspector?" I let the pointed accusation go unspoken, and in response the arrogant veneer of his returned full-force.

Deliberately, his calculating eyes passed over me, from neck to waist, as though he could still see the bare flesh beneath the long-sleeved shirt I wore, before that dark gaze slid over to rest upon what I knew must have been the shredded remains of my uniform jacket. Incredibly, swiftly, his tongue darted out to flick over his lips and then those eyes settled directly upon mine. "Long enough," he taunted softly, dropping those same burning eyes and letting them travel leisurely down the entire length of me, up, then down again.

That did it.

I felt my eyes narrow in the heat of both embarrassment and a determined, growing fury as I sized him up with a glare. _How far does he think he can push me before I'll push back? _

And the snap decision I made in that moment had absolutely nothing to do with wise, or any real logical thought, and everything to do with instinct, and anger.

With making a strong point to him, and taking a decisive stand against his bullying – now, before he got even more out of hand.

My part had to be executed to perfection, however…too much and I'd risk embarrassment – or worse – and too little would miss the point entirely.

Keeping the last in mind, I moved with a slow, deliberate purpose then. Turning and retracing my steps of earlier before slinking onto the soft cushions that were still warm from having born the bulk of my weight. Feeling his hot stare following my every motion, my lips quirked into a wry, disgusted smile that he couldn't see. I raised my arms high above my head and indulged in a long, satisfying stretch of my upper body, taking great care to allow my back to arch in a devastatingly specific way.

His jaw slackened, his gaze softened, and I flashed him a bright, knowing smile as my head swiveled to face him. "I hope you don't mind, but it's been a long day," the warmth in my low voice appeared to have a direct effect on the Devoran – the sarcasm coating it notwithstanding. Watching him through calculatingly lowered lashes, I thought I could see him shiver slightly. _Good. _I laced my fingers together to rest behind my head, again causing the muscles along my spine to curve in a particular fashion. Leaning back against the cushions, my right leg moved with agonizing care, almost caressing my left thigh before crossing over it.

I had his full attention again. This time, I pretended not to notice. The smile I offered was of the purest innocence and my voice dripped with the sticky warmth of honey as I asked, "Was there something else you wanted, Inspector? Or were we finished here?"

For a heart-stopping nanosecond, I entertained the notion that I'd miscalculated.

Kashyk's eyes smoldered. In that instant, he recognized my intent, saw what I'd been doing. He realized that I'd made every painstaking move with deliberation and with purpose. Calling him out on his despicable tactics and demonstrating how little I was going to be affected by them.

Something sparked deep in his eyes, though whether from fury or passion, I couldn't guess. His mouth clenched shut, and the inspector took a menacing step toward me. My breath caught in my throat but I kept my gaze level and my body still.

He stopped just as abruptly as he'd begun, his tense form visibly relaxing with some effort, and he gave me a last, appreciative little smile. "No, Captain," he intoned almost bitterly. Acknowledging defeat. "There's nothing else I wanted."

I watched him turn and head for the ready room doors which would lead him out and onto the bridge. The doors hissed apart for him and he paused in the doorway, pivoting on his heel to face me a final time. "But Captain…_do_ try and stay on course from now on, hmm?"

And the dangerous edge had resurfaced, just like that. "The bridge is yours," he stated simply, turning and sweeping from the room.

The doors re-pressurized behind him and I was up in a flash. If my first officer could still stand, I knew, he'd be in here in a heartbeat, breaking down the doors, if necessary, to ensure my welfare. I'd been out, cut off from contact long enough to have him seriously concerned. I would have been, in his place.

There was also the matter of getting to the doctor before he shared any knowledge of the details concerning my recent ordeal with anyone else…the particulars would have to be kept from the rest of the entire senior staff. What he already knew was anyone's guess, and I needed to know that, too, as soon as possible.

I didn't doubt the inspector when he'd warned me to get my crew "under a tighter control"; he would not be stepping in to spare my officers again. And if I knew Chakotay, or some of the others, keeping them calm and obedient after the inspector had assaulted me in such a cowardly fashion…especially if Kashyk intended to continue escorting us through space and intended on calling me in here repeatedly…

It would have to be kept from them for the time being. For the safety of the ship as a whole, it was better that they not know. I was the one who had brought them here in the first place. It was my own confidence that the Devore could be handled that had led us to this juncture. The inspector's unexpected, violent response to our course change didn't change the fact that we were here now, that we had some time left before we'd be able to rendezvous with the transport vessel that would take the Brenari to safety and that another inspection was likely beforehand. Hopefully, no more course changes would be necessary in the meantime, and the inspector would have no reason for a repeat performance of what had happened today.

But then again…even if he did do it again…I'd survived it, hadn't I? I didn't seem to be much the worse for wear – physically, at least.

The replicator acknowledged the tattered remains of cloth I'd laid in the alcove. "Recycle," I clipped, rolling my neck and shoulders in an effort to ease some of the tension in them. The rented fabric shimmered, then disappeared in a familiar whirl of energy transfer. "One Starfleet uniform jacket, command red – female, size four." I darted a glance at the viewport, at the motionless stars while I waited.

Ignoring the many impressions the Devoran inspector left me with – regarding himself, the Devore, and our journey through their territory – I clamped down on the riotous clamber within me. Those dead crewmen were just howling to be acknowledged but I couldn't, not just yet. "Sorry, Harry, Naomi_,"_ I whispered, just barely audible to even myself, "but you'll have to wait your turn.

There were live crewmen, and twelve innocent passengers to rematerialize. There was the physical damage to _Voyager_ to assess yet, the condition and safety of my living charges to establish, and, finally, both one first officer and one chief medical officer to rip into, first. After, there would be time to wallow in the guilt I so rightfully deserved to drown in…after, not now.

Pulling the crisp new jacket closed across my chest, my cold fingers found the tiny zipper and jerked it upward. Tucking in the fastened garment was a movement so natural that it required absolutely no conscious effort on my part. I paused just inside the small bathroom attached to my office to scrutinize my appearance. As I'd feared, "disheveled" was too mild a word to describe my reflection. Thankfully, I have my morning routine down to a science. It took perhaps one full minute before my makeup was once again perfectly applied and my hair tamed into submission. In fact, if anything, I looked _better_ than I had upon entering the ready room in the first place, but that was explained easily enough…

Well…not really.

I would handle it, come up with some excuse if anyone noticed. Because it was my decision not to bypass Devoran space entirely, despite the danger. And I found myself remembering the contemptuous words I'd spoken to Kashyk. _That the results may have been other than what you intended doesn't absolve you from having to accept the consequences._

How ironically appropriate.

They were probably a nervous wreck out there, and they needed me calm. In complete control. It was the least I could offer my crew in exchange for their dauntless faith in my ability to lead them home safely.

Faith I don't always happen to share.

Stealing a final, wistful glance at my image in the mirror, I tried to shake off the lingering tension from my recent experience with the Devoran inspector. I forced yet another measure of calm…borrowed from _somewhere._ I squared my shoulders and, as I stepped out onto the bridge, I couldn't help remembering the surprised admiration I'd managed to shake out of him. It was all the incentive I needed to fix a reassuring smile to my lips…

Whatever the personal cost during that first meeting with Inspector Kashyk, I'd managed to hold my own in the end. He hadn't expected to meet with such strong resistance against his manipulative efforts, of that I was certain. And I'd bounced back, had shaken his insufferable composure more than once myself.

In spite of it all…round one, I decided, had definitely gone to me.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

The Devoran lieutenant watched me like a hawk for the next thirty minutes or so, but by then I'd determined not to give him any further provocation to shoot me; mostly, I refused to be the source of even the slightest bit of pleasure for the smug alien soldier commandeering our bridge. And I didn't for one second believe the leader over the comm. when he'd assured me Kathryn was fine. Considering he'd refused to allow me to speak with her, I was waiting on pins and needles for this inspection to draw to a close.

But at least the lieutenant, Prax, hadn't received any calls from anywhere else on the ship. The cargo bay, for instance…

The inspection finally seemed to wind its way toward completion. Had it been any longer, I think I might have burst a few capillaries in my face from gritting my teeth so hard.

My relief at Kashyk's exit was short lived. The instant I got a good look at the man and the smug expression on his face…

I despised him on sight. Kashyk looked directly at me, and we stared each other down for a tense moment. In those short seconds, I think we exchanged more pertinent information between us than we did over the next six weeks combined.

We understood each other immediately; he read the warning in my eyes, saw that it covered my fear for her. I read the amusement in his – the fading lust. He smiled.

I wanted to be sick.

"Commander Chakotay, isn't it?" he drawled, sauntering over to my place in the enforced line and eyeing my rank bar as though it actually meant something to him.

_How the hell does he know my name? _I nodded tersely, didn't trust myself to speak, but I did make unwavering eye contact.

He laughed, smoothing his uniform. He seemed to laugh often for no apparent reason. It was only one of his hundreds of little idiosyncrasies, and I detested each one of them equally. Flexing the fingers in those dark leather gloves in a distinct way, so that I wondered if he had only recently donned them, he continued snidely, "Well – if not your adherence to Devoran law, I must at least compliment you humans on your hospitality, Commander. Captain Janeway is an enchanting hostess…a very lovely woman. Quite…_accommodating_."

I'm not the easiest man to rile…unless you're Paris. But Kashyk's taunts were crude, and calculated to hit right at the weakest parts of me. I barely repressed the growl that wanted to form in the back of my throat, or the snarl that twitched my facial muscles as he stopped in front of me, his insufferable grin almost entirely filling up my frame of vision.

_Arrogant son of a bitch _– _how'd you like to see how accommodating _**I**_ can be? Because if you so much as __LOOKED__at her the wrong way… _

But reason and common sense instilled an automatic restraint. I'd already proven I was concerned, and so he knew who to dig into – and already had a good indication of how to do it. Any further reaction was only going to encourage future reprisals.

I refused to rise to his bait, or to acknowledge the clear double meaning.

_But then…if she's fine, where the hell IS she?_

He leaned into me then, as I stared straight ahead. Apparently disappointed in my lack of response.

"Tell me," he continued, his voice the same loud, smug braying as usual, even though his mouth was hardly centimeters from my face, "does she have any love interests among your crew? Or is there…room…for new contenders?"

That one almost got him hit.

I ignored Kashyk's words, ignored the snide snickers that echoed all around us. Beside me, though, I felt Paris tense, knowing that every _Voyager_ crewman on the other side of him was doing the same. Then I saw what I'd hoped I wouldn't see – the gold-shouldered form of Michael Ayala actually moving to take a step forward…

_Damn it, _I groaned inwardly, _not now, Mike!_

Prax's weapon twitched in his hands. Started to come up…

"Lieutenant," I snapped, as harshly as I knew how, stunned at my old friend's clear disregard for the consequences of his rash action, "step back in line _now_!"

Ayala obeyed, thankfully, with only a single sidelong glance at me to gage my resolve, and Prax lowered his huge phaser. Slightly.

It occurred to me that he'd been taking little risks like this ever since the communiqué from Sveta, and I grimaced. In all of my recent concern over Kathryn's mental condition – and B'Elanna's, too – it seemed that I'd overlooked someone else in need. There were still several former Maquis I had yet to talk with regarding the devastating news, and Mike had been at the top of that list by the time we'd reached the Void. I could have kicked myself. _When this is over, _I resolved_, I'm going to talk to Kathryn about him. Obviously, he's still feeling guilty over not having been there for our old friends when they needed us most._

I also determined to find some other post for him besides the bridge for the next inspection. From the malicious glint in the inspector's eye, and in those of his soldiers, taunts like the one he'd just delivered could be forthcoming for a while as we continued through Devore space.

Kashyk's smile widened as he straightened away from me, but he never spared Ayala more than a glance. We were nothing to these aliens, barely worth their notice. _Gaharay_, they said. Whatever _that _word meant – I knew it wasn't a compliment.

"Until next time, Commander."

_Next time_?

Damn.

He waved a hand over the line of us. "You may return to your usual posts," he informed us magnanimously.

None of us moved. He and his men gathered together on the upper deck. Kathryn's doors slid open, revealing her to us, but she crossed straight to her chair, stopping in front of it but not sitting down. My heart stopped and I wanted to pull her aside and make sure she was all right… Briefly, her eyes connected with mine, and I saw reflected in her blue depths that she was fine, if both angry and beyond exhausted. The sigh of relief I heaved was entirely inward, but I saw her relax almost imperceptibly, too, as she glanced over our assembled group. She scrutinized me most closely, and I knew why. _She must have been just as worried in there as I was out here._

I felt like an ass for adding to her I was prepared to defend my actions.

We waited stubbornly in line, though it wasn't planned, and I realized with a start that we were looking to our captain to relieve us. I grinned in spite of my injuries. _They may have the guns, but it's Kathryn who runs this ship. Now, they know it, too._

She got the silent message, and her tiny, bemused smile was visible to only us. Probably, I'm the only one on the bridge who knew what the impromptu show of solidarity really meant to the captain of _Voyager_. I knew the loss of control, if it bothered me so much, must have been killing her.

"As you were," she consented, with a small, tolerant shake of her head.

_Then_ we dispersed, following her example and retaking our respective posts.

If the expression on the Devoran inspector's ridged face meant anything at all, he was rather amazed at our stubborn display of loyalty. I couldn't tell if he thought it strength or weakness, but it didn't matter; she knew what it meant.

As though it were the slightest of afterthoughts, she turned, glancing up to the inspector, and nodded curtly. Then she turned her back on him and took her seat.

I wanted to grin at the surprised annoyance on his arrogant face; there was no mistaking that Kathryn had just dismissed him as coolly as if he'd been an ensign serving under her. Thankfully, she'd missed the entire exchange between him, Ayala, and especially me; it would have embarrassed her to know how he had used her to manipulate us, but I felt she'd somehow vindicated herself with that slight.

As the turbolift doors closed to obscure his uniformed bulk, Kashyk let his eyes linger on Kathryn, though only I saw…and his calculating yet fascinated expression chilled me to the bone.

And then I had to wait for Tuvok, Vorik, Jurot and the others to be rematerialized and checked over by the doctor. Kathryn left the bridge almost immediately to hear his report directly; there was quite a bit riding on his assessment of the overall physical effects of transporter suspension. Under other circumstances, I'd have thought she was avoiding me, but I'm well aware of the fact that her way of dealing with physical exhaustion is to stay in constant motion, thereby not allowing herself time to stop and think about it.

So, in her brief absence, I ordered an inventory of everything on the ship; I didn't trust those Devoran soldiers not to have sabotaged _Voyager_ out of pure malice. Tuvok arrived to relieve his temporary replacement…and apparently, me. Kathryn me less than a minute later, informing me that she'd be making a brief round of the ship and "suggesting" that I visit the doctor…immediately. I took the "hint", turning the bridge over to Tuvok without protest; my ribs were killing me. Each breath was agony, as I slowly made my way to sickbay.

The doctor was unusually closed-lipped in his responses to my questions. It was like pulling teeth to get him to admit to having treated the captain's wrist for a sprain while she heard his report about the transporter suspension. As I knew by now that there had, amazingly, thankfully been no other injuries to the crew, I gave up on asking him anything more.

I still wondered at the hologram's uncharacteristic silence. After long and longer minutes of it, it began to eat at me. It was just unnatural.

_Should I say something? Ask what's on his mind?_

Quickly, I decided against it. The doctor and I have never had a great deal of in-depth interaction. To be honest, I've always left his somewhat…delicate…personality to the likes of Kes (when she was here), Seven, and even Kathryn; they seem to appreciate his quirks, and the Spirits know how I have my hands full with counseling the _living_ beings on this ship. _The last thing I need right now is to land in the middle of an all-out dramatic tirade about who's not recognizing his rights as an individual THIS time _–

"Commander?"

I must have fazed out of reality for a moment while contemplating my relationship with the EMH. Or lack thereof.

Guiltily, I craned my neck to look behind me. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I must have been daydreaming for a moment there."

With the raised eyebrow, I felt his stern expression rivaled Kathryn's…or even Tuvok's. "And no small wonder. According to my readings, it's been days since you've had a proper night's rest." I only grunted at that, not sure I felt in the right frame of mind to respond civilly. Did he think I didn't know just how little rest I'd gotten the past week? I was getting close to having to fight Kathryn for extra coffee rations, for Spirits' sake!

"Do you require a sleep aid? If so, it can be arrange–"

"No. Thank you, Doctor. It's just been a busy few days. I'll be sure to tuck in early tonight." _Assuming our fearless leader doesn't make any more late-night visits to the bridge…_

"Please see that you do. If this keeps up much longer, you're going to begin to see some very unpleasant side effects." I nodded, trying to look appropriately enthusiastic about my agreement, and he relented. "We're through here. I've mended your ribs, and healed your numerous contusions. There'll be some tenderness for a few days, but otherwise, you're good as new."

"Thank you, Doctor." I was already sliding off the biobed, anxious to return to the bridge and to my duties…and to Kathryn, if I was honest. I still had no idea what had transpired between her and the inspector the entire time she'd been in her ready room.

"Try to get some sleep – and a decent, _well-balanced_ meal wouldn't hurt either, you know."

_Neither would a few tweaks to your personality subroutines, Doctor. _I nodded my way to the doors, making an effort not to snap at him on the way.

"And if you'd be so kind as to refrain from picking fights with militaristic aliens from now on…" His words trailed off as I left sickbay, the sterile scent fading from my nostrils as I moved toward the turbolift again. _Spirits, is this what Kathryn has to go through every time she visits sickbay?_ No wonder she hated going after injuries so much!

I had to admit, he was unbearable when you weren't keeping yourself in top physical condition.

She still hadn't made it back to the bridge, but then I'd been gone less than a half hour in total. Despite the hassle, the visit to sickbay had been well worth it; my throbbing ribs no longer distracted me from taking the reports streaming in from all department heads. As had been reported initially, there were no other incidents aboard ship during the inspection. There was, however, still the matter of repairs; like Brek's men, Kashyk's had done a bit of cosmetic damage during their search – mostly for show. A staff meeting was announced, before, finally, the captain returned to the bridge.

She made a point of greeting everyone on her return – a bit unusual for her on second appearance, yes, but I knew what she was doing. She wanted to reassure everyone that she was pleased with their performance during the nerve-wracking inspection. _Their_ performance. When she finally turned to me, however, her expression clouded considerably, and I knew then that she hadn't forgiven me.

_Damn._ But I'd known it was coming. I just wasn't looking forward to it. Especially as I had some things to say to her regarding our new friend, Inspector Kashyk, and I knew those things weren't going to be particularly well received to begin with…much less on top of everything that had happened out here while she was in there.

No one else noticed the silent exchange between us, at least, I decided…

And then I caught Tom's unsubtle turning back to the helm. It figured, I had to admit. If anyone would have had to be looking at that exact moment, it would be Paris, wouldn't it?

"Well, if anyone needs me," she drawled, her distinctive voice tinged with sarcasm, "I think I'll go disinfect every square inch of my ready room."

I laughed with the rest of the bridge crew, who were delighted at her frank display of distaste for the Devore and their methods. It was one of those glimpses of herself she _did_ allow to show through to the crew, more frequent now than in the beginning days. It pleased them a great deal. In some ways, at least, Kathryn had certainly let her hair down as time had passed.

They thought it meant she was opening up. Only I knew it was a substitute for real emotional connection. Like Tom, she used humor now to keep everyone at arm's length.

She headed for her ready room entrance. "Commander," she called, knowing I would follow her anyway if she didn't ask. I was up out of my chair and behind her in an instant. _Best to get this over with_. It had the potential to get ugly if not handled correctly or further delayed, and I knew it. "Join me? Tuvok, you have the bridge."

The doors closed behind me to the Vulcan's implacable, "Aye, Captain."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: See the Prologue

**Note**: Okay. So this is a double Janeway, yes, but my choice was to post a tiny chapter and wait til tomorrow to give a long, long chapter, or break off a piece of the next chapter to add to this one. I opted for the latter to keep them more even…also so I didn't feel like I was skimping on people today.

Chapter Five

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

The instant those doors closed behind him, I dropped the façade. I whirled on him, and I started to let him have it. Hands going to my hips, mouth tight and tense and eyes flashing dangerously at him, I bit out, "You want to tell me what your little display of heroics was all about, Commander?"

"I'm sorry, Captain."

I didn't even process his words, barely saw him. "Just how the hell am I supposed to keep this crew in order when I've got a first officer who can't control his–"

"I was out of line, and there's no excuse for it," he broke in smoothly, right at the perfect lull in my speech to stop me in midsentence. Perfectly, genuinely repentant at first ring and making me pause. He locked eyes with me for the first time, too, as he stressed, "It won't happen again, Captain."

It was then that I took in his words. His stance. His expression. His familiar eyes were darker than usual with real remorse. Even a hint of embarrassment. And I realized the release I'd been unconsciously seeking by simmering all this time wasn't going to be had now. Not at his expense.

He knew exactly what he'd done. Understood the ramifications. Didn't need me drilling it into him.

Not really.

He was sorry. Which was all he could be now. It wasn't as if anything could be done about it after the fact, was it? No.

My hands fell from my hips as the fight slowly leaked out of me.

"See that it doesn't," I half relented – and half growled, to make my point.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging the final rebuke.

But it was when I caught him studying me closely – far too closely for comfort – that I straightened. Cleared my face of any tension or worry, any sign of the supreme exhaustion I was feeling thanks to the inspector's "alternative sanctions" or whatever it was he'd called it. And deliberately changed the subject even as I turned to face away from him under the pretense of moving over to my couch.

"Status?" I requested.

He followed me up the few steps to stand by my coffee table as he offered, "No other incidents were reported while the Devore were aboard. There are a few emergency hatches that are a little worse for wear, but other than that…all systems are functioning normally. Repair teams have already been dispatched, and I should have the full report for you by the staff meeting at 1300."

I nodded, rolling my shoulders back to ease some of the tension there. "Good. At least the _crew_ managed to control themselves."

I'd meant that one as much at myself as at him, but I'm not sure he took it that way. Since he let it pass unanswered, only dipping his head the appropriate small fraction in shame, I didn't correct him.

Instead, I deliberately pushed onward. "Inspector Kashyk," the disgust was thick in my voice, "has graciously decided to personally oversee our journey through Devore space."

"I don't like him."

I raised an eyebrow. He'd wasted absolutely no time in offering his opinion, had he?

He didn't back down. "I don't like anything about him," he added staunchly.

Pinching the bridge of my nose against the headache I felt coming, I sighed, "I know. You didn't exactly make any effort to hide your feelings."

He blinked at me in confusion, and I couldn't resist.

"That brooding glower of yours was clear enough for all involved."

He fixed me with a stern frown as my hand dropped back to my side, and I didn't bother repressing the smile that wanted to form in spite of it all.

"I don't brood. And I don't glower."

The smile wanted to widen. I didn't let it.

But I also wasn't ready to let him off the hook, either. "You were at least pouting, then."

He took real offense at that. As I'd known he would.

"I certainly don't _pout, _Kathryn."

"Right. My mistake." Half an outright grin was forming over the smile at his too-predictable, indignant response. "You don't pout – or brood, or glower. Tuvok doesn't have feelings," I started ticking off each one of them on my fingers, to his deep, resolute sigh. "B'Elanna doesn't growl…"

"All right–"

"and the Ferengi –"

"I think you've made –"

"– are just –"

"– your point."

"– misunderstood philanthropists."

"Finished?" His arms had crossed resolutely over his chest as he'd resigned himself to waiting me out.

"Yes, I think that about covers it."

He lifted his eyes up to the ceiling before asking dryly, "Feel better now?"

"Much, thank you."

We were both, somehow, grinning fully by now. Even he'd relented, and even if it was only a response to how much of a kick I was getting out of my own humor, his dimples were still in evidence. I think maybe that, with the heavy weight of responsibility so keenly felt on both our shoulders, we were both relieved that things hadn't degenerated so badly that we weren't able to tease each other anymore. And I thought, because I was so very tired, that maybe I'd side-stepped his concern. That, maybe, he wouldn't even ask about what had happened in here, and then I wouldn't have to lie to him at all. That maybe I'd successfully redirected the conversation into more friendly waters–

"He got to you, too." It wasn't a question. And I realized that even through the humor of a moment beforehand he could read the controlled anger in me like a book by now.

"Kashyk seems to enjoy flaunting his power," I allowed carefully. Adding, "I'm glad they have rules about the treatment of travelers."

However few there appeared to be.

"As long as we can appear to hold to their conditions, we should be safe," I declared. More for his benefit. _And if we can't…at least I'm the only one that might have to suffer for it_, I didn't even consider adding aloud.

"I hope so," was all he seemed prepared to offer.

"But I shudder to think what he would do to telepaths, Chakotay." Especially considering what he'd had no qualms about doing to me for a simple course change. I brushed off the thought, qualifying my earlier statement with, "There aren't any laws here to protect _them_."

Our eyes met. Neither of us needed to speak to know that each was remembering only too well the horrific stories of abuse circulated about Devoran detention centers. According to several reputable sources just outside the Imperium, any ticket into the camps was strictly one-way. Prisoners of the Imperium were slowly worked to death. Adults and children alike were subjected to near starvation, sleep deprivation, and severe beatings at the very least.

As to the other, less proven rumors… A violent shudder did roll through me, and I turned my head away, not wanting to betray more of my misgivings than would seem natural for the situation. "He's absolutely insufferable, though," I admitted, my lip curling up in distaste at the thought of the inspector as my mind returned to him.

"Agreed," Chakotay offered – emphatically this time.

Slanting a sideways glance at him, I could read the anger in him just as well.

And that was what I was worried about. He stewed quietly. Debating about whether or not to say what was on his mind – as if I didn't already know. And I gave him a moment, frankly fresh out of ideas to distract him, until he finally had to break the silence. "At least it'll only be six weeks or so before we're out of here."

Something I could work with, at least. I scoffed. "Thank goodness for _that_. I could barely keep myself still in here, knowing his soldiers were poking into every crevice of my ship. And I hated watching them scan the crew with those devices of theirs…gives me chills. And not of the pleasant kind."

Why I'd felt the need to qualify that last thought…was anyone's guess. I frowned at myself.

"If it makes you feel any better, we all felt the same way. It feels almost like a violation."

"Hmmm," I murmured, in complete agreement of that assessment, unable to stifle a yawn, now that I was seated. "This game of cat and mouse is already exhausting," I felt the need to qualify aloud this time.

He only frowned slightly. Still working out whether or not he would say what he so desperately wanted to say.

And I didn't feel like having that fight, whatever it was he was preparing for. Not today. Not after what had already happened and everything that still needed to be done today in order to assure the smooth running of the ship and our continued success in keeping our passengers out of Devore hands.

But as disastrous as the conversation could so easily turn…I felt the need to discuss _some_ of it with him. To tell him as much as he would need to know in order to do his job properly, which was as much about the inspector's actions as I thought wouldn't be detrimental to his ability to make effective judgments about our future dealings with the man.

"He was toying with me, to see if he could rattle me," I heard myself confessing aloud. Bitterness coated my words.

I watched him closely when I said it. Saw the way he swallowed. Again, debating how much to say and not. He settled for, "Me, too."

I raised an eyebrow. Much more alert, not having expected that. "What?" I didn't stop myself from wondering aloud. It hadn't really occurred to me Kashyk could, or would have, in that short span of time that he'd been on the bridge.

My stomach was knotting. Had he told Chakotay anything? Anything I hadn't _wanted_ him to?

"How do you mean?" I followed sharply, when he didn't immediately answer me.

He was pulling at his ear. Definitely not a good sign as he more mumbled than explained, "He must have seen the worry on my face when he came back out to the bridge. He used it to taunt me…to make me think he had hurt you."

This time, I sat up fully. My eyes narrowing. But his expression was blank. It was impossible to read much more out of him than that.

I was going to have to work it out of him, I saw.

"Do I want to know why he thought that would be effective? Or was this _after_ your little display?" Damn, that had come out sharper than I'd really intended…

He was already almost scowling in reaction to it. "'The display' was in response to the shouting I could hear in here. And that on top of your absolute silence through the whole event." I bristled, more to cover the sinking sensation in my gut than anything, and he caught it. Caught himself. "I understood you probably had good reason for not speaking up, but if you'd been able to, we'd at least have known you were really all right. Instead of having to take the inspector's word for it."

I stared at him. Trying to figure out how to play this. Because of course I had absolutely no memory of a conversation that had taken place while I was unconscious. Had no idea what he'd heard and hadn't heard. Could guess and couldn't guess.

I'd made the decision not to fill him in on what had happened in here for the ship. It would do my peoples' already frayed nerves absolutely no good to know what the inspector had done to me in here today. And I'd made the decision specifically for Chakotay, really. Because him thinking he'd in some way failed me, which is exactly what he would have taken from my recounting what had happened to me in here, wasn't going to do his nerves any good, either. But I had to acknowledge to myself that keeping this from him wasn't strictly praiseworthy in a friend – which we're supposed to be.

I didn't like it. Not one bit. I even considered in that moment that I should simply tell him. There was a chance that Kashyk could use those drugs again. And if he tried to use them on anyone else…

"Kathryn?" He was studying me just as closely. "Was there some reason you _couldn't_ speak up?"

_Yes_. It was on the tip of my tongue – I swear that it was. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I'd been taken unawares and injected with some hellish unknown compound as punishment for our course alterations. That the compound almost killed me because the inspector apparently hadn't bothered to make sure that it was compatible with human physiology. That this was what had been going on in here while he was out there. Separated.

That he'd had good reason for his reaction, unacceptable as it was.

But the worry was already in his face. Deep into the lines of his eyes. Around his mouth. He'd already reacted in a way that had almost gotten _him_ killed because of that worry in the first place…

"Kathryn?" I'd been silent too long. Guiltily, I looked up at him, and the worry lines only deepened. I could have kicked myself. "What is it?" he pressed. Growing more alarmed than I wanted. "What was going on in here? Did something happen? Something you haven't told me?"

I took a breath. Resolved to my earlier course of action. If there was a reason that it became absolutely necessary to fill him in, I would.

Otherwise…

I forced a tight smile. Shrugged a single shoulder in dismissal of his concerns. "I wasn't at liberty to speak at the time."

"Wasn't at liberty?"

Damn, I couldn't help thinking. I should have known he wouldn't be that easy to put off. I tried again. "I was warned not to." And that was the first outright lie. A lie I would have preferred not telling but still told myself was kinder on him in the long run. Safer for all involved.

His unconvinced, alarmed expression prompted me to continue with the next lie almost immediately, "I was told it might not be healthy for _you_ if I tried."

He relaxed – visibly. I wish I could say that I did, as well.

Scrubbing both hands over his face, he finally dropped down beside me, taking a seat. Nodding, as if it was exactly what he'd expected of the inspector. "I figured something like that was it," he admitted.

And it was worth whatever it did to my conscience to see his relief at my deception.

I found myself scowling now, though. At myself. At the memory of doctor's lecture on morals and otherwise vehement protestation when I'd ordered him to keep quiet, too. But most of all, at the Devore inspector that had made it all necessary by his reprehensible actions…

"He's insufferable," I found myself repeating. Folding my arms. "Sat at my desk. Had me serve him _drinks_."

I stopped moving, my head slowly swiveling at the snort of – I'd be damned. Chakotay was actually _laughing_. And trying to hide it.

"Care to let me in on what's so funny?" I growled what I wouldn't be overly arrogant about calling dangerously.

"I'm sorry. It's just…" he ducked his head. Actually having trouble getting himself sober enough to speak and finally managed, "He probably has no idea how lucky he is he didn't leave _wearing_ that drink."

_Oh. _My eyes widened again from their narrowing slits.

"Don't think I didn't consider it," I drawled, relaxing a bit more. "Several times, in fact."

The corners of his mouth were twitching again. "That wouldn't have been very captain-like."

"Nope," I agreed immediately, "but it would have been satisfying as hell. And in the long run, he got what he deserved anyway."

_A tiny fraction of what he'd deserved. _

Chakotay looked faintly afraid as I leaned in conspiratorially, "And I didn't even have to do anything." At his questioning, prompting tilt of head, I elaborated, "He asked for coffee."

He closed his eyes briefly. Seeming overwhelmed. "Kathryn…" And probably because he knows just how strong my coffee has become over the years, he visibly winced. "_Please_ tell me you added cream and sugar first?"

It was when my face molded itself into the picture of innocence and I shrugged that he _really_ winced.

"He didn't ask for them."

"Nice." Punctuated by another wince.

"I thought so, yes. You should have seen the look on his face – trying to keep his composure while pretending not to choke…"

"Must've looked exactly like I did the day I accidentally picked up your coffee by mistake." The memory behind the grimace was obviously deeply ingrained, and I laughed out loud, both at his vehement reaction now, years later, and in remembrance of the look on his face during that incident.

And had to admit, "There were…similarities, yes."

He was still smiling, albeit ruefully. But I didn't notice how much the humor had left him until, quietly, he pointed out, "I'm not sure that was strictly wise."

Here it was. I should have known better than to have let my guard down at all.

"Wise?" I was already bristling at his choice of words. "It's not as though I physically attacked him, Chakotay, and he _did_ request the coffee," I reminded him pointedly.

It didn't seem to faze him. Looking deep into my eyes, he prompted, "And you really think he's the type to take a joke at his expense? Take it well, I mean?" Before I could respond, he was already half pleading, "Just…don't antagonize him. Please. He could make you regret it."

I fixed him with "the look" then, but he wasn't deterred. Seeming to think I needed to hear this – which I did _not_, incidentally.

"He scares me, Kathryn. There's…" he actually shuddered. His eyes on the floor now as he tried to come up with the right words, but, unable to, he settled for looking directly at me again. For making sure he still held my full attention. "I can't explain it–"

"Can't explain it? Or know better than to share your reasoning?" I cut in.

He shot _me_ a look then but didn't acknowledge the question. "Something about him doesn't sit well with me."

I shouldn't have pressed. I knew better. My eyes were even burning into him by now. Warning him off continuing. Knowing better than to let him. And all I had to do to diffuse this now was to bite my tongue, nod my head, and mumble a few, placating syllables, and we'd be moving on.

And yet what came out of my mouth was only going to fuel the fire, and I knew it, "We've faced far more intimidating opponents before. And we've come too far. I won't be cowed by one insignificant, overly arrogant soldier now."

"I'm not suggesting that you should be," he shot back immediately.

"Then just what _are_ you suggesting?"

"It's less of a suggestion than a deep-rooted concern at this point–"

I made a sound of disgust in the back of my throat, getting to my feet to put some distance between us before he could finish his statement. "You've already shared your concerns," I reminded him, my voice going just a note higher in annoyance. "And there's nothing I can do about them."

"I don't like you being alone with him."

_I _didn't like me being alone with him. That didn't mean Chakotay had any right to put that on me, however. I turned back to him. Eyes narrowing in on him. "You say that as if I had a _choice_, Chakotay. I didn't; I was summoned." And if he didn't pick up on the danger in my tone by now, then he really didn't know me at all, I decided.

"He wants you, Kathryn."

I froze up. Taken completely off-guard by his statement. Realizing just how far off the usual mark of conversation we'd gone, because I couldn't recall having ever discussed anything like this with him before. And it was probably the hint of shock, and disquiet that we were having this conversation at all, which prompted me to simply reply softly, "I know."

Past the immediate flicker of surprise, I thought I saw anger boiling in his eyes, and then I tensed in absolute disbelief – until he looked away, and I realized belatedly that it wasn't really directed at me this time.

It still didn't stop him from continuing, "I'm sorry, Kathryn. But I'm worried," he repeated his initial sentiment. A note in his voice that had turned purely plaintive in what was probably a last resort. "And I don't like him pulling you in here, away from the rest of us."

I forced myself to swallow the incredible ire that was swelling in me long enough to keep my tone civil as I pointed out, "I'm separated from the rest of you on many occasions, Chakotay."

"I know that," he all but snapped back at me – letting me know just how much internal fighting he was doing of his own as he pushed himself up to stand in front of me. "It's _him_. _This_ one. The whole thing worries me. I'm worried about him…and _you_."

"So what are you saying here, Chakotay? What do you honestly expect me to do about it?" I demanded. "Hmm? Just…hand over the ship to you, and hide in my quarters at every inspection?"

I almost hit him when all he supplied to what was supposed to be an obviously ridiculous suggestion was to nod. Nod! "It's not the worst idea I've ever heard," I couldn't believe I actually heard come out of his mouth.

My eyes narrowed considerably. "Then you've heard some pretty lousy ideas, Chakotay, because that's _not_ an option here."

"Why not?"

"Oh, you've got to be…" I threw my hands up, trailing off. Nearing my absolute limit. "This is absurd. It's not going to happen. And if I took _you_ off duty for every time some alien dignitary made googley eyes at you, you'd never be able to go on an away mission again."

"If I was in potential danger from any of them, I'd understand if you did it," he told me – way too calmly. Entirely too seriously. "In fact, I'd probably even thank you for it."

"You're missing the point of this entire conversation!"

"Am I?" he asked. Growing slightly heated himself, finally, at my refusal to seriously entertain his concerns. "I thought the _point_ was that in a situation where there's potential danger–"

"There's _always_ potential danger!" I shot back, my voice rising considerably as I took a step forward to close the already short distance between us. "And if I stepped back from every single bully we'd ever–"

I stopped myself short at the point that I realized I was actually shouting.

I'd actually been reduced to standing here, having a shouting match with my first officer. In the middle of a hostile region of space, no less.

Pinching the bridge of my nose again was just to give myself the moment's pause – and not because I thought it was likely to do a damn thing for the migraine that had developed while we'd been having this ridiculous conversation. "You know what, Chakotay? I think we're all feeling the strain of this situation," I told him tightly. Dropping my hand back to my side. "And it's clearly affecting everyone's ability to hold a rational conversation right now."

He opened his mouth to protest. Apparently already knowing what was coming, but too late.

"I've heard your concerns," I continued with finality, "but I'm certainly not giving up command of my ship just to allay them."

"You know I wasn't _really_ suggesting–"

"I will take your _advisements_," I spoke right over him, cutting him off, "under consideration, Commander. But I think we're finished here. We both have far too much work to do. Speaking of which…why don't you go and check on our passengers? Make sure they have everything they need?"

It was a dismissal, plain and simple. An executive ending of a conversation I simply didn't want to be in any longer, and was opting out of.

It was pulling rank, as surely as if I'd said the words "dismissed" outright.

And I'd passed the point of caring how it came off to him.

He was angry. It was written all over his face. In his clenched hands and in his tight jaw, which was working back and forth. But he saw the finality in my perfectly bland expression, my indifference to his anger at the fact that he'd just been shut down completely.

And there was really nothing he could do about it.

"Aye, _Captain_," he clipped out tightly. Painfully tightly, if the look he was shooting me at that moment meant anything.

I ignored him completely. Nodding austerely at his acknowledgement, and it only made his dark eyes burn into me even more hotly.

"I'll get right on that," he all but hissed. He turned stiffly in his heel and headed for the doors without so much a single backward glance.

I'll admit that I stood and watched him go with far less indifference than I was actually showing on the surface. And as the doors hissed shut behind him, felt no better for the "victory" I'd just scored against him, either.

Truth be told, I felt like hell, I decided. Physically and mentally. Resisting the urge to drop back onto that couch and close my eyes for just a few moments, I settled for giving the comfortable furniture a last, longing glance. And forced myself to head for the replicator, instead.

"Coffee. Black," I ordered it absently. Rubbing at the sharp, pricking muscles in my neck and shoulder with one hand while I waited.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

_**Janeway **_

_**

* * *

**_

As expected, the past week had been a particularly bad one…even by Delta standards. Thanks to those hideous visions from the Inspector's chemicals, I'd hardly had any sleep – not that _that's _so unusual – but the glowering looks from the doctor were wearing on my thin nerves like never before. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, he's always well aware of when I'm not sleeping properly; he and Seven both have the superior visual acuity to see past any concealing cosmetics I'm vain enough to wear to cover the dark circles under my eyes. And it's just my luck that I had to be thrown into the far reaches of the galaxy with a _hologram_ for a chief medical officer. He was still disapproving over my orders to keep the inspector's assault out of the logs and, added to the lack of proper rest I'd been getting, he'd grown impossible to endure for more than one full minute at a time.

We still had no idea what that chemical was. The inspector had confiscated the medical tricorder the doctor had used to scan me in the ready room, so as yet there was no way to defend against the insidious substance, should Kashyk decide to administer another "lesson" in Devoran protocol. It worried me much more than I cared to admit…

_And speaking of worry, Chakotay still looks like absolute hell_, I noted in the back of my mind as I watched Kir, the leader of the Brenari take another reluctant bite of Neelix's latest creation. _And, damn, I forgot to order him to get some sleep yet again today._

He kept slipping through the cracks amidst the tension of traversing hostile territory with the precious, forbidden cargo we'd been trying to conceal from our hosts.

At least he'd dropped that ridiculous stance that I was being reckless with regard to the Devoran inspector, Kashyk – as if I didn't know, better than he did, how dangerous the inspector really was! Of course – he _couldn't_ know how well I knew it, as I hadn't told him all that had happened. But that was beside the point.

We'd maintained a kind of tenuous peace between us over the last week, but we'd also been directly avoiding the topic of the Devoran inspector. Instinctively, we both seemed to know better than to broach the subject again. But with another inspection so likely to be approaching…at least according to the more knowledgeable Kir's assessment…we couldn't avoid it forever.

With everything weighing on my mind lately, I found it singularly refreshing to have the distraction of a fellow leader for companionship.

"The Devore used to _be_ telepaths, Captain."

I started at that, genuinely shocked by the revelation. Kir, a relatively kindred spirit to my own, who I'd found wanted only to get his people to safety, had revealed that particular tidbit of information with surprising nonchalance – as though it were a well-known fact.

He had my full attention, and my eyes ceased scanning the mess hall for indications of unrest among my crew. Nerves were understandably frayed, given the circumstances of our situation as barely tolerated "guests" of the Imperium, but overall, the crew was handling the tension with a practiced air of professionalism.

I was proud of them.

Now, however, it was Kir who drew my attention. Fixing him with a penetrating stare, I pushed back my plate, resting my hands on the table.

"You're joking," I asserted flatly, unable to reconcile the statement he'd made with the strict haters of all things telepathic that the Devore had proven themselves to be.

Kir gave a gentle smile, his eyes shifting subtly over to where his family gathered at a nearby table before meeting my gaze once more. "I assure you, Captain, I am entirely serious. A long while ago… more than a century or so…roughly one third of the Devoran population was telepathic."

I felt my eyebrows rise on my forehead as I eagerly allowed myself to be caught up in the remarkable tale Kir had begun to weave.

"The ruling class was comprised almost entirely of telepaths…much as our own society when it flourished. Their society was never very open to outsiders, but they used to be much more tolerant of them. Our two societies actually seemed to coexist fairly well…for a short time. The ruling society on Devore was relatively enlightened in those days."

Again, I felt my eyebrows rise. The Devore? Enlightened? But my disbelief only served to make Kir smile mischievously.

"When the telepathic Devore rose to power, there was open trade between our worlds for the first time in history. Sciences and the arts were highly prized in Devoran high society at the time, and my people have…or had…a widely acknowledged propensity for the arts. Our masterpieces of music and even literature were in high demand among the wealthy Devore, and some pieces were even eventually introduced into Devoran school curriculums. Our delegates were treated as welcome guests, even invited to lecture in their halls."

"Fascinating," I interjected politely. And surprisingly, I meant it. The picture he painted rather reminded me of Renaissance Earth, in a fashion. I found myself picturing ornate courts and bustling marketplaces, a time of learning and new ideas within a species crying out for the richness of science and cultural growth.

It was an appealing picture, to say the least.

Unfortunately, it was hard to imagine it taking place on Devore Prime, given what I now knew about the Devore first-hand…the picture was far too idyllic to really register as anything like the history of such a brutal, intolerant race.

"The trade was good for both our peoples...the influx of rich alloys that only come from Devore Prime were much needed on our world. And as the only species to successfully establish trade with the Devore, we soon became the envy of every populated planet in the system."

It seemed doubly odd that the one-time closest friends to the Brenari were now the biggest threat Kir's people faced.

"May I ask what fascination the Devore ruling class seemed to hold with the Brenari? Was it simply your artistic talents? Or was it your telepathic abilities that they found so compatible with their own?"

He gave his gentle smile again, surprisingly disarming with its genuine nature. "Our telepathic abilities were of particular interest to the Devore, yes…and being close neighbors, it seemed inevitable that we'd be the first they reached out to. But primarily, they envied us our system of government. At that time, our world was quite peaceful. We had none of the wars or inherent strife within our politics that have plagued the Devore for centuries. According to the ruling classes, our system was to be studied and admired for its success."

I felt a smile of my own tugging at the corner of my mouth. "High praise…"

"Considering the source, yes."

"Why do I get the feeling this admiration and cultural exploration didn't last for very long?"

He gave a short, hollow bark of laughter. "Perhaps because you've met the Devore, Captain."

Unfortunately, yes. I had.

"Kir," I began, doing my best to steer the conversation in the direction I needed it to go delicately, "I don't mean to interrupt, but would you mind if we took this discussion to the ready room? There are some…questions I'd like to ask you."

He rose, mimicking my actions and lifting his plate, following me over to the recycler with a deep nod and what I assumed was his telepathic communication with his mate, Bri. "And you'd rather ask them where we won't be overheard?" he prompted wisely.

I bit my lip, not giving into the temptation to assume he'd simply read my mind in order to garner that information. It's always difficult to know when a telepath is using telepathy or merely making a correct guess, but in my younger days of inter-species relations, I've had my share of diplomatic incidents arising from assuming I knew the answer to that question.

Purposefully steering my mind back to our original topic of conversation, I motioned for the Brenari leader to follow me down the hallway toward the turbolift, nodding in passing at Ensign Dougherty as he politely stepped aside and allowed us to pass.

"Deck one," I ordered absently, turning to focus my full attention upon Kir again. "I'd be interested to know what happened to turn the Devore from the enlightened, culturally curious race you've described into the xenophobic society they are today."

He smiled sadly at me as the lift came to a halt seconds later, gesturing me out ahead of him so that I could lead the way, and replied, "It's really quite unfortunate, that–"

"Captain," Chakotay turned in my chair, interrupting Kir without realizing it, "I thought you were going to…"

He trailed off as he sighted Kir, and I doubt I imagined the way Chakotay's face fell slightly. He certainly looked like hell (as usual lately), and I wanted to order him to get some rest then and there, but could do no more than nod to my first officer as I passed right by him and swept into the ready room. It would have been rude to ask Kir to wait for the exchange with Chakotay, and I knew that Kir was hoping to get some sleep before too long…it was quite late in the evening by now, and our telepathic passengers had already adjusted to our day and night cycle. Deciding to speak to Chakotay the instant Kir was en route to the temporary quarters we'd set up for his people in the cargo bay…where we could disassemble the temporary beds and clear the area on short notice…I motioned for Kir to take a seat on the long couch beneath my viewport.

"I'm sorry," I apologized politely. "Please, continue."

He'd already resumed his tale, and even while my mind wandered partially, I kept one ear out for the relevant details, careful to keep radiating a genuine level of interest in the conversation for the sake of polite exchange.

Damn telepaths. So much more work than regular humanoids to fool…

"As you've already surmised, things took a turn for the worse."

With the coffee I'd automatically replicated in hand, I took a seat beside him. He'd declined my offer to replicate a beverage for him as well. Finally focused entirely on the mild features of the man before me again, I nodded. "Oh?" I prompted. "How so?"

Kir was an inherent storyteller – a trademark of his people, the Brenari. He loved the rapt attention of a captive audience, and as my information about the Devore was sorely lacking in contextual background, I was only too happy to oblige the telepath's need to have an avid listener before him. My questions concerning the Devoran drugs could wait until after he'd finished, and I allowed myself to be swept up with his words, much to his growing delight as he sensed my total submersion in his tale.

"The telepathic faction eventually began passing laws restricting the rights of the non-telepathic population. The changes were benign at first, so few resisted the new legislature, but it soon became clear that their agenda was total and complete control of Devoran society. It didn't take long for the laws to escalate from barring any non-telepath from holding public office to even restriction of procreation among the lower classes."

"Non-telepaths," I supplied, drawing another slight smile from Kir at my comprehension of his meaning.

"Just so," he nodded. "Laws were passed segregating the two sections, and it didn't take long for the distinction between classes to become more and more obvious. The telepaths, as the only group with any real power, soon had most of the planet's resources under control. There began to be food shortages among the non-telepaths, who before long were all living in abject poverty and under dire conditions. "

"But surely," I tried, my brow creasing in concern, "people among the telepathic factions noticed what was going on. They can't all have been in agreement with such horrible policies?"

"Those who were openly sympathetic to non-telepaths quickly disappeared – as did most any opposition to the ruling majority. Pretty soon, all non-telepaths lived in secure, quarantined areas which were little better than prisons. They were put to work, denied basic medical care…sterilized by the thousands for imagined 'genetic deformities'."

The horror of his tale was reminiscent of so many dark eras on my own homeworld that, to my shame, it wasn't very hard to imagine how such an atrocity had been allowed to develop on Devore Prime.

It never stops the blood from running cold in your veins to hear about it.

"Could the Brenari not have helped them in some way? Pleaded the non-telepaths' case? If the ruling class was so taken with your people…"

"We tried. According to the texts that have survived from that era, we were horrified at the conditions the non-telepaths were forced to live under. But the ruling class refused to listen. They were even proud of what they called the 'purification' of their species. Eventually, our government grew tired of having our official protests over their hideous mistreatment of the non-telepathic factions ignored. We soon after withdrew our friendship. At some point…about six decades after the segregation of the population began, we stopped visiting Devore Prime altogether. Even for supplies or simple trade negotiations. By the time we left, all non-telepaths had been relegated to special compounds. Telepathic sentries were posted at each entrance and exit to the quarantined areas. The only way to get out was to speak the codeword…telepathically, of course."

_Of course. _And suddenly, the Devoran hatred, their fear of telepaths wasn't quite so difficult to understand anymore. "What happened after you left? Obviously, something changed between then and now."

"There was a revolution. A…" he hesitated. A look of something unidentifiable crossing his face that had me leaning slightly forward in my seat and even envying him his mental abilities in that moment. "A _bloody_ one," he admitted finally.

I tensed.

"Until the revolt, the telepathic leadership had managed to completely oppress the non-telepaths, as I explained. Any hint of revolt, or rebellion, was quashed immediately with a sentence of death to any dissenter. Even being accused of dissenting, with or without evidence, was essentially punished by death. The Devore leaders thought this was the only way to retain the 'purity' and 'integrity' of their new regime."

"Kill anyone who dares oppose them?"

"Basically."

I couldn't help shaking my head. "It seems obviously counterintuitive to use violence to achieve _peace_," I protested sadly. Knowing no logical point I could make now, after the fact, was going to change any of what he was about to tell me.

He shuddered. Visibly shuddered. "I know," he agreed softly. "But some of their leaders had become so excited, they'd made narrow-minded zealots of themselves. They stopped listening to, seeing reason. They soon convinced themselves that this was the only way to elevate their beloved society to the next tier of functionality. To a new era of prosperity for Devore. And soon they gathered followers. More and more. And even as the opposition grew against some of their more radical policies…segregation of non-telepaths…genetic purity laws designed to all but weed out the non-telepathic factions…"

I shared his shudder this time. "There _had_ to be opposition to that."

"Opposition just as violent as the movement itself became," he informed me quietly. "And when the two factions finally openly set to war between them…"

I closed my eyes against the picture of slaughter I found so easy to form. "In the midst of all that zealousness, I can't imagine it was anything less than horrific."

"It was," he confirmed softly. "Casualties were estimated…to be in the millions. And it lasted for almost a century. When the non-telepaths finally broke free of their oppressors…all they'd known was how to take power with violence. Bloody and unapologetic violence."

"It explains a lot," I decided slowly, mulling it all over in my head. "If they had to fight to the death for their freedom from oppression. For generations, even." I met his saddened dark eyes. "It almost makes sense that a culture like this would spring from that kind of struggle. But it's still hard to imagine all that violence…the powerful factions of the Devore having come from almost nothing to their position of absolute authority today…"

"If some of the official records hadn't survived the purging of our people's civilization when the Devore conquered our world, I wouldn't believe it myself. They have come a long way when you consider the paranoia they used to operate under."

My eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You mean they used to be _more_ paranoid?"

"Quite. Even against their own leaders. They would become convinced that their elected leaders were really telepaths who had survived the bloody purging and were lying in wait to take power again when the people least suspected it. In fact," he leaned forward in his seat, "to this day, the way to become the leader of Devore Prime is either to inherit the throne…or to assassinate the current emperor."

"Now _that,_ I can believe." I winced slightly. Having too little trouble imagining a man like Kashyk taking just that action, if he felt it might further his own ends. Yet as fascinating as Kir's dissertation on Devore history had been, as hopefully useful as his lessons might somehow prove to be in future, I had invited him to chat in the first place with a very specific set of inquiries in mind. Regarding that same man I'd been thinking of, I leaned in further. Working my mind around to the best way to steer the conversation to that topic, until I noticed Kir's demeanor.

Kir hesitated, his eyes moving over the ready room with unease. Finally, his gaze seemed to find a resting place on the viewport over my head, at the stars streaking by there. "The next communication we had with the Devore came almost three decades later, in the form of an invading army. It was massive…apparently, the ruling classes had spent much of the time while relations were strained between our two peoples building up an armada of warships to come after us."

I held my breath, not daring to interrupt him. I didn't have to be a telepath to read the agony etched across his features as he recounted this part of his story.

"But it wasn't the old ruling class who arrived in that armada. It was the oppressed, the non-telepaths, who at that point had all grown to fear and hate telepaths. As will happen with brutally oppressed peoples, they'd staged a bloody uprising, as I'd said. And they were proud of it. They bragged about the complete purging of the _telepathic_ threat to their world. Many of them blamed our race for what the Devore saw as our influence over the ruling class. Within minutes, it became clear that they'd came to our world with the intention of extending the purification of telepaths."

It hit me then, what he was saying, and I leaned further forward to set my empty coffee mug on the table. "They thought it was your fault…" I realized. "That your people had _encouraged_ the oppression."

"They couldn't have known any better," he admittedly bitterly. "Locked away and mistreated so badly…I suppose it was a natural assumption to make in their position."

"That doesn't excuse attempted genocide!"

"No." I could barely hear him this time. "It doesn't."

I couldn't resist the urge to reach across the small space between us and rest a bracing hand on Kir's arm. His face reflected such pain at the retelling of this unimaginable piece of history that, telepath or not, I could literally feel his agony.

"It was a slaughter, Captain," he whispered. "Our people have been peaceful for centuries. We had nothing like the advanced weapons of mass destruction that were unleashed upon us. We had never seen…violence…_hatred_…at that level…only a few thousand of us escaped in small groups to resettle on deserted moons, uninhabited planets and the like. Still, they came after us…"

He choked up, and I sensed it was time to put the matter to rest. For his sake, if nothing else.

"And they haven't stopped hunting the rest of you since," I supplied, keeping my hand on his arm and feeling his body shudder under my fingers. "I'm so sorry." I was.

But there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, besides appreciate the gift he'd just given me in putting himself through that recounting.

Quietly, I acknowledged, "Thank you, Kir, for sharing that with me. I know it can't have been easy."

It took him a moment, but he finally met my eyes again, though his were a bit teary. I pretended not to notice, assuming embarrassment was what was causing him to color so noticeably. "Thank _you_, Captain. For everything. If _Voyager_ hadn't given us refuge, I don't…"

Whatever Kir might have said next I'm sure I'll never know; the red alert klaxons suddenly blared to life. The comm. of course, chimed in at that precise moment. "_Captain to the bridge._"

Those words were all it took to jolt me into command mode. My head snapped up, and I barely heard myself automatically murmur, "Excuse me, Kir," as I rose to my feet.

_So much for Chakotay's rest. Or mine or Kir's, for that matter. _

I was half-way to the door before I consciously acknowledged that Kir, too, had arisen and that the Brenari man was right on my heels. But he'd have to wait a minute. I barely took a glance around me upon entering the dimly lit bridge and snapped, "Report."

Chakotay – who shouldn't have _had_ to have been manning the bridge in the first place at this late hour – obliged quickest. His head shot up from looking at the console between the command chairs, and he shook it very slightly, his face grim. "Two Devore warships, headed this way."

"Time to intercept?" I was already rounding the small ramp and taking up position in front of my chair, which Chakotay was vacating in favor of his own seat.

He leveled a deeply concerned gaze at me, and my breath caught in my throat before the words even left his mouth. "Twenty minutes."

"What the _hell_?" I was just annoyed now. "Why didn't they appear on sensors before now? Even the last ship gave us more warning than that!"

"Ensign Kim and Seven of Nine have been working on–"

At Ayala's vaguely distressed reply, I raised my hand to cut him off before he could really start to explain.

"It doesn't matter now," I clipped, turning to address Kir, who'd taken up position by tactical and stood staring at the view screen. "You still can't think of which specific technology they're using to evade our shields? No idea of the kind of cloaking frequency they're using?"

He shook his head sadly.

_Of course not. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? _ I could have screamed in frustration. Instead, I fixed a tight smile on my face for his benefit. "It's all right. We appreciate all the help you've been able to give us otherwise."

I took my seat – more or less, leaning sideways into it already to be able to access the panel. "Chakotay, escort Mr. Kir to the cargo bay, but let Tuvok know what's going on and have him get Vorik and Jurot. Then have Neelix wake and round up our guests and take them to meet Kir." I paused for a half second. "Make it Cargo Bay Two, this time."

Not looking up again, even at his crisp "aye, Captain," I was already punching in the code to automatically summon all senior officers to the bridge. With the late hour, more than half of them would be sound asleep and possibly wouldn't hear the comm. channel. The instant the message confirmation blinked across the screen, I tapped my commbadge, pulling up the latest reports from all department heads to double check ship's status for anything glaring I might need to know at the same time, even as I called, "Janeway to Seven."

There was the half-second of silence she needed to rouse herself from her standard regeneration cycle before: "_Yes, Captain_?"

"Seven, I need you in Cargo Bay Two immediately. Gather your team together and have them meet you there."

She was quick on the uptake, declaring, "_Another inspection._"

I could almost see her delicate eyebrow rise in that damned infuriating, Vulcan-esque fashion and suppressed another tight smile. "And we have less than twenty minutes until they arrive, so get a move on."

"_Understood."_

Bless her, I spared a half second to acknowledge; she didn't even waste any time questioning the time estimate – like I had.

Already scanning through Tactical's readings, I noted with at least a little satisfaction that all weapons were functioning within optimal parameters. _As they damned well should be. _Shields were at full strength, and B'Elanna had already reported in at her station in Engineering – if she'd ever left it. No problems or lingering glitches were being reported anywhere…except, of course, a false entry about the glitch in our imaging scanners, and I smiled. I hadn't asked her to take that initiative, but B'Elanna had been thinking on her feet, apparently. As Chakotay imparted low instructions on the upper portion of the bridge for Ayala to locate and shadow Naomi during the next inspection, my hand found my commbadge again. "Janeway to Ensign Kim."

Another brief lapse, and then a groggy, somewhat strained, "_Yes, Captain_?"

He always takes longest to wake. The boy's a sound sleeper, and that was why I'd deliberately called him last, giving him the extra thirty seconds to hear the summons. "Harry, I assume you received your summons to the Bridge?"

"_Yes, ma'am,"_ he confirmed. "I'll be there in–"

"Disregard it," I ordered crisply, before he could continue. "We have an impromptu inspection on the way...with less than twenty minutes before they arrive. Gather your teams and report directly to Transporter Room One."

I hardly heard his response before it was time to open the main comm. line. It chirruped obligingly, and I took a deep breath. "All hands, this is the captain…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: See prologue.

**Notes**: This is the worst of it. Make it through and it's smooth sailing after this. Well... :)

Thanks everyone for the kindness in reviews!

Chapter 6

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

The exhaustion hardly even registered anymore. Adrenaline, muscle memory and habit took the place of rest, clear thinking and rationale. In twenty minutes, I saw more of the corridors and bulkheads of _Voyager_ than I typically would in a normal two-week period. I hailed Tuvok, imparted Kathryn's instructions to him, escorted Kir to the cargo bay and then ducked my head into the mess hall, where Neelix was escorting the Brenari out without incident before I double checked that everyone else was where they needed to be and had everything they needed. At the last minute, I checked in on Naomi, and since Sam was on the bridge, I'd pulled Ayala down from the bridge to watch out for Naomi and sent Rollins up to take Tactical instead. Rollins would handle business up there just about as good as Mike, but I wanted Mike watching Naomi and knew Sam would be grateful for the extra measure of precaution while she was unable to watch over her daughter herself. His having children had always made Naomi somewhat special in Mike's eyes, and I knew he would protect her with a ferocity few others aboard could match. Neelix insisted on joining them too, when he was finished, and I agreed because I couldn't see the harm in it.

By the time I made it back up to the bridge, the Devore ships were hailing us. I still noted the slight frown on Kathryn's face, even if no one else did. I leaned over to hear what was bothering her, knowing she'd impart the relevant information to me that was causing her additional unease.

She glanced over at me, and surprisingly, I saw surprise, a little personal concern flash briefly in her eyes before the frown returned to mask it. Which meant I must look as stellar as I felt, if it had caught her attention in the thick of things, but she was past it immediately, and I discarded the idea just as quickly as she did.

"It's not Inspector Kashyk's ship," she informed me then, her brow puckering in deep thought as she read over the energy signatures of the ships on the small screen between us, where she was tracking their approach. "Whoever this is, it's a new team."

I frowned. "But I thought he said…"

"So did I," she retorted shortly.

We both glanced up to the view screen as Ensign Callahan, having gotten a visual of the ships' approach, flicked the image onto the screen without needing to be told. The ships looked exactly like Kashyk's had, even though we already knew they weren't the same ships. They took up formation on either side of us, hedging us into position.

"They certainly act like Kashyk's ships," I decided aloud, to her, more than to anyone else.

Before she could bite out a response, Ensign Callahan was chiming in.

"We're being hailed."

"On screen," Kathryn ordered, sitting back in her chair.

As expected, an entirely different lieutenant appeared onscreen. In language reminiscent of the two previous lieutenants, he ordered us to power down all systems, drop shields, and step away from our stations. Making me truly wonder if the Devore actually operated from some sort of approved master script while initiating inspections.

As militaristic as they were, I wouldn't have found it surprising in the slightest.

Kathryn didn't even bother arguing. She saved her questions for the new inspector, who, like Kashyk, would probably take his time in arriving. The inspection teams were aboard within a minute of the initial hail and, though they chose different decks to board first, their technique mirrored the previous inspection teams exactly.

Having had some experience with inspections by now, everyone but the captain remained silent as the bridge crew rose simultaneously from our chairs, turning to greet our new guests.

"Welcome to _Voyager_, Gentlemen. I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she quipped, her sarcastic tone apparently lost on the familiarly uniformed men, who streamed from the turbolift and took up positions so that the bridge crew was loosely flanked by the armed Devoran soldiers.

The relatively young, smug-looking lieutenant from the screen emerged from the bunch and stalked forward to where Kathryn and I stood. With a curt nod of his head, he indicated the CONN and crisply ordered us to form a straight line in front of it. After a clearly displeased and unimpressed nod from Kathryn, we all moved quickly to comply. She'd made it crystal clear after the last inspection that there was to be no deviation from Devoran protocol, and no one made a move otherwise.

Yet.

At least this time, we had the advantage of knowing all the rules of the Devoran "game" – even the unspoken ones. Only Paris dared mutter: "Here we go again."

"Ensign," Kathryn snapped, her voice edged with steel warning as she took up her position to the far left and set her gaze to focus dead ahead of her, fixing mostly on the Devoran lieutenant of this new group.

Paris thankfully held his tongue.

The inspection routine was familiar. A thorough scan of each crewmember and an even more absurdly thorough search of the bulkheads and hardware. For the most part, the Devore gave no indication that we even existed: even the soldier who scanned us could hardly be bothered to muster a superior smirk. They rarely spoke, and when they did, they certainly didn't address their comments to us.

We stood like that for agonizingly long minutes, until the muscles in my legs began to ache from holding such a stationary position, but I made no move to shift in place and alleviate the discomfort. I was determined to give the Devore no excuse to stage a repeat of the last inspection's violence…and Kathryn no reason to lay into me again – or to feel like she had to worry.

At the sound of the turbolift doors swishing open, my head snapped up, my eyes drawn over to the new figure appearing, framed within them. He made no move to leave them at first, his eyes flickering over to where we stood in line. He let his eyes pass over us, from left to right.

And smiled faintly to himself as he stepped out onto the bridge.

The air, the atmosphere thickened as he entered the room. He was in charge. It was in the cockiness of his gait, in the set of his shoulders and the sweep of his movements. The cool sense of control and power in his eyes. Even more of a dead giveaway was the way the other soldiers were all behaving toward this newcomer with distinct reverence.

I let myself study him closely, to get a measure of his intentions as he slowly approached our position, questioning his men alternately as he passed each one of them. "Any telepaths?"

"None that we've found, Inspector," one of them replied gruffly, adjusting the grip of his weapon from where it had been resting against his hip to the other side as his superior passed.

"Good," the new man murmured. But his attention never really left us.

He was fairly tall, much as Kashyk had been. His hair was dark, and so were his cold, gleaming eyes, but that wasn't all that was familiar about him. His expressions, his unfounded arrogance…all tinged with a hint of ever-present malice, felt like something we'd already seen. In fact, he reminded me a _lot_ of the last inspector, but then…that shouldn't have been unexpected. It made sense that this new inspector – and he was undoubtedly the inspector from the way the younger lieutenant appeared to wait on the man's every last word – should share many of the same qualities as his counterpart. The Imperium would probably favor the same kind of qualities in their commanding officers, much as Starfleet did…

It wasn't until the new inspector reached us that I detected the _real_ change in atmosphere. It was…a shift in attitude, I thought with narrowing eyes. At some point during the last half hour or so, the soldiers had begun to congregate back on the bridge. Apparently satisfied with their scans of the conference room, the ready room and the rest of deck one, they were shooting longer, more assessing looks at us, finally deigning to notice our presence in more than just a business-like fashion.

They were paying more attention to _us_. Tearing my attention more fully away from the new inspector, I was overwhelmed with the sudden sensation that the atmosphere in the room had changed _significantly_. I shifted slightly, unnoticeably closer to Kathryn, and she exchanged a sidelong glance with me out of the corner of her eye. She'd noticed, too.

And neither one of us liked it one bit.

The inspector was prowling up and down the line, looking us all over carefully, a faint glimmer of that something…undefined yet undeniably menacing…flickering in those obsidian eyes.

"Clean," he drawled, stopping in front of Andrews at the end of the line. "No sign of parasites?" he spoke to his second in command over his shoulder, and when that guard shook his head, the inspector swiveled his attention back to the line. He moved down until he stood in front of Wildman. And paused to say, "Smile, _gaharay_. There's no need to be frightened – unless, of course, you and your shipmates have done something…_wrong_?"

He fixed her with a piercing stare, punctuated with an almost wolf-like grin. One that made my stomach start to churn, slowly turning over the contents of my stomach.

I held my breath in the silence that descended, thick and expectant, and then a few of the other Devore, still scattered all around us, letting us know that we were outnumbered, seemed to lean forward almost eagerly. Just as I was about to open my mouth, sensing Kathryn was about to and not wanting her to be the one to take any flak for "speaking out of turn" or whatever ridiculous rules the Devore might be inclined to want to enforce, Sam's voice rang out, loud and clear, "No. Of course we haven't. We're just trying to make it through your space, officer."

She wasn't assuming he was an inspector, must not have heard the others call him that. I tensed even more, unsure how he would take her failure to properly address him, but I could see his responding smile. And I assumed from the inspector's hum of approval that Ensign Wildman had satisfied him with her answer. That he wasn't particularly offended by the quiet, obvious indignation in her calm voice, either.

_Probably used to it_, I decided. Relaxing by a slight fraction, allowing the breath to be slowly released from my lungs and sensing Kathryn doing the same next to me.

He made his way back down the line, for the first time approaching the end where Kathryn and I stood. "Good general physical condition… Some of them are rather shapely, aren't they? Rather difficult to believe that Kashyk was here and he left empty-handed."

I tensed differently. What the hell did _that_ mean?

Kathryn didn't try to meet my eyes again, and I shifted my attention back to the inspector. His eyes passed over Tom, where they lingered a moment, traveling up and down. "This one looks like Brennick's type," he noted, drawing a few snide sniggers from his lieutenant. And then his gaze passed over me, resting briefly on my tattoo before he moved on without further delay. Then he paused on a little chuckle, turning his eyes solely to her. "And you're _Janeway_."

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, her voice cold and clear. "I'm Kathryn Janeway, captain of–"

"_Voyager_, yes, I know." He smiled callously, dismissing her introduction without a care and focusing his intense gaze on her face. "Lovely."

A passing compliment. Offhand. Mildly delivered with a distinct air of disingenuousness. Familiar chills of distaste ran up and down my back.

"And your name, Inspector…?" she continued, not at all put off by his rudeness. We'd come to expect it of the Devore by now, but even so…

His ridges rose in surprise. He paused in the act of turning away, eyes dropping as he allowed them to follow back up the length of her. "Very good, Captain," he all but purred in a voice as grating as I'd found Kashyk's before. Hell he sounded _just_ like him, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as he zeroed in on her. Studying her a lot more closely than he had initially. "My name is Juryk. _Inspector_ Juryk, will do nicely. And _you_…are…simply _adorable_, aren't you?" he drawled, the picture, and sound, of condescension.

Kathryn and I, the whole bridge crew simmered at his demeaning "compliment". My jaw started to hurt from clenching it so tight – which, of course, he noticed.

Juryk laughed then, a grating, snickering sort of chortling, turning his head back to his lieutenant and exchanging a look with the smaller man, who smiled nastily in return, as though the two shared some kind of sick, private joke between them.

My already-piqued senses were sharply prickled by that look, and not in a good way.

"Isn't it amazing, the things these _gaharay_ come up with? Honestly now…seems their ideas get more and more ridiculous with each new species we encounter. A _woman_ in command…what an _adorable_ concept."

And the contempt, the singular lack of respect for her, from the original lieutenant, Brek, and then Prax…the fascination Kashyk appeared to hold for her before departing the ship the last time, all made much more sense.

Kathryn didn't seem surprised, or even as angry as I'd have expected her to be. From the corner of my eye, I observed her posture: proud, but not overly offended or outraged. Just...annoyed. _Deeply_ annoyed. And it occurred to me that Kir must have remarked on the fact that the Devore did not allow women to hold positions of authority during their solitary talk earlier in the evening…or perhaps, even, before the first real inspection. We hadn't seen any women among the inspection teams, but that hadn't meant there weren't any…until now.

It wasn't exactly an isolated viewpoint. Back home, we dealt with it, too. From the Ferengi, and others like them. Here, we'd dealt with the Kazon, and a few others. Now, apparently, we had to add the Devore to the list.

It never got any less irking or annoying. I could read her energy as well as my own, even from the corner of my eye. Kathryn was annoyed, yes, but she maintained her silence and composure much better than I did. I still found I couldn't help the angry look I felt spreading over my own features at the exaggerated laughter filling the bridge, and from the tension beside me, Andrews wasn't thrilled and I doubted Tom or the rest of them were, either.

I did take a minute to be thankful that I'd at least managed to have Ayala discreetly reassigned to looking after little Naomi Wildman during the inspection. He would have taken this kind of obvious, base taunting about as well as he had last time, if I knew him at all.

"A_dor_able," the inspector repeated faintly, turning back to us again. He started for the end of the line, paying closer attention to particular crewmen as he traveled the length of our group once again, but this time, behind us. I gritted my teeth as he passed down the line, because obviously we wouldn't be able to see what he was doing if we had to keep facing forward. He stopped behind Tom, I thought, stepping very close to him. I thought I noted Tom shifting slightly forward in surprise, could have sworn I heard the smallest of noises escape his throat, but the inspector could be heard moving again just that quickly, and the small ripple that had occurred in line on either side of Tom stilled.

The tension was mounting. I could feel it now, coming from all sides. And I didn't know how much longer Kathryn was going to put up with obvious intimidation tactics like this, but I did know her well enough to know it sure as hell wasn't going to be long…

Once more, I couldn't really see him so well now, not around the others between us and with my head having to face more or less completely in front of me, but I could tell that he'd stopped again at the other end. Behind Sam, this time.

And I couldn't tell what he did next, but I did hear the stiffening, slight shifting of the their at the end of the line, much more noticeable this time, and my head did snap over to see what was going on, as did Kathryn's, but we were just in time for him to circle back around in front of her. "Pretty, golden-haired thing," he drawled, standing very close to her. Too close – _way_ too close for my liking. My teeth were grinding deeply against each other as he continued, "And what is your function on this ship, golden one?" he inquired. Staring, and leaning close in a way that made it clear he was less interested in the answer than he was in the excuse to stand closer to her than any normal, polite society would allow.

"She's my science officer," Kathryn answered for him coldly and matter-of-factly. The slight but noticeable emphasis on "my" audible to the rest of us.

She'd drawn his attention again with her speech.

As she'd damn well meant to, I knew.

"My, but you're very…_vocal_, Captain." He glanced over to her as he slowly sauntered his way back in front of us. He stopped in front of her, even as his dark eyes flickered to me. "Is she _always_ this talkative?" he asked, seeming more amused than annoyed.

I only raised my hard eyes to his. Let him see the level of contempt I had for him, and his snide questions. He snorted, unimpressed. Then, as if to prove he wasn't intimidated, he shifted even closer to her. Much, much too close, and I couldn't even see any space between them anymore…

He clucked his tongue. "Such a shame. You're not unattractive, Captain. When you keep your lovely mouth shut, that is." He smiled faintly, softening his voice as his eyes seared over her face. And, unmistakably, the rest of her.

I forced myself to keep my own mouth tightly sealed. To be still and not to jump the gun on a bullying thug who was more than likely just bluster, trying to intimate us with his unnerving actions – and probably just trying to draw a reaction in the first place.

But…

"Tell me," he continued, more whispering than speaking, bringing his hand up to the level of her face, and my eyes followed his movements like a tractor beam, "don't you ever tire of having to fill a man's shoes, Captain? Don't you ever _want_…to be treated like a woman?"

And then the cocky son of a Cardassian whore had the nerve to stretch out a gloved finger and start tracing the line of her jaw, and she'd had enough. She jerked her head back, tilting it in challenging disbelief at him.

He stepped forward, closing the distance. His smile widening. Taking the same hand to the inside of her arm…to the…to her–

I'd be _damned_ if his hand was going where it _looked_ like it was! She could kill me later, but in no universe did I just stand there and let him do that to her right in front of us.

Before I could more than begin to cross forward, Kathryn's hand snapped up to smack his offending fingers away from her. Bringing the entire room grinding to a screeching halt of deathly silence.

"_Enough_, Inspector," she snapped out into that silence, her face white and tight-lipped with rage at his unmitigated gall. "I've cooperated with your inspection teams to the best of my ability so far because I don't have a choice. But I'm not going to stand here and let you touch me – or any other members of my crew."

And I experienced a schizophrenic blend of pride, satisfaction – and almost paralyzing fear in that one moment. The rest of us drew in a shaky, stunted collective breath as the inspector blinked, holding up his hand. Appearing to be in shock.

I was the first one to see the rage descend over his face. To see his lips draw back in a foreboding snarl.

I moved again, almost had his arm in my left hand, but again, not quick enough. He was faster, moving with speed belying his stature and heavy build as his black-gloved hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. He whirled her away from me, half dragged and half threw her across the floor, sending her hurtling into the console between our chairs. He was on her just as quickly, seeming ready to follow up with a few brutal kicks, and hissed, "You just made the biggest mistake of your life, _Captain_."

* * *

_**Tom**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Son of a bitch_, was all I could think, trying to keep my cool as the volatile fuse was somehow lit and the situation suddenly exploded all around us.

My eyes had been straining so hard to the left to see what was happening down at their end of the line that it was painful. They'd started tearing up by the time the commotion started, so the image I had was blurry, but I could tell Juryk had been reaching towards her. I don't know what the hell the new inspector was reaching _for_, but the sharp movement of her hand and the echoing slap of her striking his hand away made it clear it was something she wasn't going to stand for. I knew what had set _him_ off, at least, although I doubt anyone on the right side of me could have gathered what had happened as he suddenly ripped her out of line by her neck and sent her hurtling across the floor.

With the force behind his throw, she hit the deck hard, tumbling and skidding a few meters, and I winced in angry sympathy at the several nasty jolts of contact she had with the hard floor. Finally skidding to a stop as her whole top left side slammed straight into the hard edges of Chakotay's chair. The sound of the final impact turned my stomach, my heart beating like crazy with the surge of sudden adrenaline pumping exploding through me, and the two seconds it took it all to happen was enough to snap me out of the shock that had held me still.

The inspector advanced on her, bearing down on her as if he wasn't finished, and I started to move forward, as did Rollins, and probably the rest of us. Chakotay already had, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw he'd been shoved back into line by two of the Devore as he tried to intervene, one of the barrels of those huge stupid Devore phaser cannons under his chin to keep him in position, Rollins jerked backwards beside me as someone pulled him into submission from behind, and I came up against a solid black wall, myself. Another one had muscled his way in front of me, and though I didn't even want to afford him a snarl of a glance, I had to acknowledge him enough to crane my neck around his thick shoulder to get a visual on the captain's position.

She'd stopped moving, had turned herself away from the chair to face the inspector and was catching her breath. She stared hard up at him, unblinking, never taking her steely eyes from his, even as she used Chakotay's chair to push herself back to her feet, barely pausing to toss the disheveled strands of hair out of her face, the ends of which had stuck across her mouth. I couldn't tell if she was injured, but if she was, I doubted she knew it, either, in the tenseness of the scenario unfolding now.

"You worthless _gaharay_ bitch," he was hissing. Fuming, and breathing almost as hard as she was, drawing closer to her and blocking off her forward line of escape, should she have been inclined to use it. "Do you have any _idea_ the penalty you've just drawn yourself for daring to strike a Devoran officer?"

"I can't believe there would _be_ a penalty for refusing to allow you to touch me," she retorted icily, her jaw jutting out in clear challenge, her eyes darting contemptuously over the two guards that had moved to flank the inspector, backing him up and almost worse, further obstructing my view of her. "But whatever it is," her voice continued, "I'm certain it's preferable to allowing you to continue bullying us for your twisted amusement – or whatever purpose your blustering, unacceptable behavior could possibly serve."

I sucked in a breath at her unyielding reply, the tension on that bridge as absolute as it's ever been.

Silence fell again as I checked out the action on either side of me. Most of us had been held back, restrained until we'd stopped resisting and then been released, although the guards were still keeping a close watch on us…the ones next to the inspector shifted a little, giving him space, and then I could see their profiles again. The Devore inspector – Juryk – stood almost nose to nose with her, staring down at her from his greater height. When he shot his hand out and reached for her again, I cringed, tensing, and watched Chakotay do the same from the corner of my eye.

But the inspector didn't hit her, as I'd feared; his fist went to the back of her head, grabbing her awkwardly by the hair and dragging her forward the few centimeters between them to literally press his forehead to hers.

"By striking me, you have made a grave error in judgment today, Captain," he hissed into her face loudly enough so that everyone could clearly hear. "But I'm feeling…_merciful_ today."

I started to breathe the tiniest bit easier at his words…

"So I'm going to give you a final chance to avoid what you've just bought yourself with your insubordinate behavior. Are you willing to get down on your knees right now and beg my forgiveness, in front of the entire room – or do we get right down to the method of your punishment?"

Shit. The tension redoubled as he laid out his "terms", because _I_ could have answered _that_ one for him. He didn't even have to hear it from her – basically, there was…

"Not a chance in hell that's happening, Inspector," she informed him coolly, without the slightest of hesitations in her response.

She never ceases to amaze me, even when she scares the living hell out of me. Though I couldn't make out her features from this angle with the Devore inspector's head in the way, I could almost see the defiance etched across them at the steel in her words, "So do whatever it is you feel you have to."

His snarl was audible even through the thick buzzing that had settled around my ears. In a single, solid movement, he spun both of them, threw her back to the ground, this time in front of the helm where she'd been standing originally. She sprawled backward, catching herself just barely with her hands before she could fall back even further and hit her head on my chair, this time.

"_Gaharay_," he spat, as if that was an entire response in itself. Wiping his gloved hands on the front of his uniform and watching her rise to her feet again without pause.

"She's right, Inspector." Chakotay broke smoothly from the line behind her, taking the few steps forward to offer his assistance, but she simply shook him off. She did allow him to speak, however.

All eyes turned to the commander as he dared to break Devoran protocol and speak for the second time in two inspections. But hell, we'd all been breaking it the past few minutes, really, and at least Juryk's men hadn't tried to kill us for it…

Yet.

"She didn't do anything but defend herself," Chakotay continued, and I could tell he was doing his damnedest to keep his voice even and reasonable-sounding, even if I could hear the tight clench of his jaw in his speech. "You'd do the same in her position, wouldn't you?"

But that was the weird part of this whole thing, now that I'd gotten the chance to fully take in the unexpected, dangerous turn of this situation. The more I'd gotten to think about what had set the inspector off, what the captain had done, the more I'd started to question her actions, which had prompted this standoff now.

We'd all seen the way her eyes had flashed fire at Chakotay after the last little…incident…with the Devore, when he'd nearly gotten himself killed for stepping out of line to try and get to her. She'd been pissed as hell at him for that, and she hadn't done much to hide the fact as she'd ordered him right into her ready room, where I'd assumed he'd had his ass handed to him for it.

And while I'd never _want_ her to stand there and let some slimy Devore inspector put his hands on her, her swift and sharp reaction to it just didn't jive with her vehement insistence that we not give the Devore _any_ reason to start a fight. Typically, I didn't think it was her style to go against her own orders at the fine line the inspector had been walking over there.

She'd either lost control of her temper and made a pretty questionable mistake herself just now or…

A glance from the inspector, and one of the soldiers guarding our group shoved Chakotay further back with the end of his weapon, physically separating him even more from the captain with his hulking body just as the inspector started to circle around her. She stood stock still, her eyes staring straight ahead until Juryk stopped in front of her again.

"You're all the same, you know," Juryk was growling, utterly ignoring Chakotay. Turning, he began a kind of short pace, crossing back in forth within a few meters in front of her. "Oh, you wear different faces, have different body types and names for your backwards, inferior races." His dark eyes swept over the lot of us, who were standing there holding our breath. "But yours looked like a relatively intelligent species. Even," he leered, his hard eyes now roaming over the captain and the group of officers around me, "a somewhat appealing one." His eyes snapped back to her. "Do you know how rare it is for us to come across a race of _gaharay_ we'd lower ourselves to touching at all?"

As he moved again, I could see her face clearly now, as she'd stood back up at an angle, more facing our side of the line than in it. Her mouth was set into a thin line of unwavering resolve.

"We're _honored_," she retorted in a tone as flat and steely as her expression. "But I repeat: I cannot, and will not, allow you to mistreat any member of this crew, no matter the…generous spirit…behind your intentions."

And I realized with her words, the phrasing of them, that she'd been clear on what was going on down here at our end of the line in the beginning. She might not have been able to see _exactly_ what had been happening, but she'd gotten the gist of it. I wasn't sure she'd been able to tell much of anything from her end, but she definitely had.

And that was why she'd spoken up then, when he'd been standing in front of and questioning Sam. The captain had done that deliberately to draw his attention to her end of the line, and then I thought I understood. She must have decided the inspector wasn't going to make a passing thing of his too-close attentions, because if she hadn't thought his behavior was going to be turned right back to the rest of us, she'd probably never have reacted so strongly to his overly solicitous behavior towards _her_.

She was only doing what any Starfleet officer worth his salt would do in defense of those under his command: she was drawing the enemy attention to focus directly upon herself. Smart, on the whole.

But as for her well-being, it was stupid, and at that moment I resented her for putting herself in danger… just as much as I loved her for it.

Juryk was laughing in her face at her stubborn declaration of what she would and would not tolerate. "You won't _allow_ it, Captain? You're significantly outgunned. You have no choice in the matter, regardless of what I decide to do. To you, _or _to them."

Her eyes flickered dangerously – not that Juryk caught it.

We did.

"There's always a choice, Inspector," she warned. "I urge you in the strongest possible terms to consider that before making any decision that can't be undone."

The Devore snarled, his patience visibly snapping. "I am only going to ask you one more time. Get down on your knees and apologize, _gaharay_," he reiterated in a clear growl of warning. "Or you _will_ regret it."

And he clearly expected her to obey him. But then again, he didn't know her the way we did…

"No."

His head cocked sideways in surprise. His eyes going hard and cold at the determined look she gave him then, and it became clear enough that he had been pushed to his absolute limit. His nostrils flared even as his fingers twitched in their dark leather gloves.

He was quiet when he spoke next. Quiet, but intent. "I regret that you could not be made to see reason, Captain." He gestured to the two guards closest to her. As if they'd been expecting his response, in the blink of an eye they moved forward to flank her. And now I could _definitely_ see the difficulty with which everyone in line tried to restrain themselves.

Oh…fuck. This was bad. This was _really_ bad…

"It's a shame you denied yourself the chance at life…perhaps you might even have enjoyed your visit with us. Now, I'm afraid we'll never know. Take care of her," he growled, nodding to his henchmen almost nonchalantly.

_Take care of…? _It took a second to hit me, but when the realization of what he meant struck, it hit like a ton of old-fashioned bricks: he meant for them to kill her.

After all the battles, all the hell she'd dragged us through, gotten us past...the captain had finally pushed an enemy one step too far. She'd reached the end of the line.

_Oh, no, she hasn't_. Something, some inner, saner part of me came unraveled in that one instant. It didn't end like this...it _couldn't_ end like this…I wouldn't let it. I didn't care what she did to me for it; I couldn't just stand there and let them…

They put the guns away. I caught myself in mid-lunge, and watched Chakotay and several others do the same. I took a hitching breath, trying to get some air into my lungs. Did that mean they weren't going to…that we'd misunderstood his meaning?

And then they answered my question for me as two of them began reaching into the pockets of those sinister uniforms, withdrawing something that looked like black, coiled ropes… The two hulking brutes unfurled the length of the ropes, and I realized at the distinct snapping sounds echoing sharply in the air that they were actually holding some kind of whips.

Of course. Maybe I even should have guessed that first – every culture from here to the Alpha Quadrant has some version or another.

My heart pounded worse with each passing second of mind-numbing fear for her…for all of us, really. Someone beside me, Sam Wildman from the sound of it, gave a cry just verging on quiet a scream. A cry I fully understood, that resonated somewhere in the deepest most hidden parts of me. Because it wasn't like we were just going to stand here and let them do _that_, either. And I couldn't stand still for much more than a few seconds longer, I realized, as two more of the Devore, who'd melted into the foreground before I'd noticed them, each seized one of the captain's arms, holding her still between them.

As if she'd ever run from them, or anyone like them. And she made no move to try.

But they wouldn't touch her with those weapons. Not today. Not in front of me.

Certainly not in front of Chakotay or Andrews or Sam, for that matter. Without the other guards noticing, all of us had edged slowly forward, creating the tiniest bit of a semi-circle out of the rigid straight line that had been obscuring our vision. And now we could just see each other's faces. Andrews surreptitiously caught my eye, giving an ever-so-slight but distinctive nod toward the dark-haired, sadistically smiling soldier to the captain's left. He blinked once. I understood instantly. _His. He'll take that one. _And Chakotay's sights were unmistakably on the two that were holding those whips. Being the brawler that he is, I gave him even chances of being able to take out both before they could touch him, too. And even then, I caught Sam leaning forward, her eyes flashing hell for the same guards that Chakotay's sights had been set on, and while tactical isn't her thing…that look in her eyes gave me pause about dismissing the benefit of having her on our side in this. I couldn't see Rollins, but he'd jump in wherever he was needed, I knew.

That would leave the soldier to the captain's right for me to handle, if that wasn't the one Rollins would go for…

Juryk circled the three of them now, the captain and the two holding her still. The inspector was looking her up and down derisively. And if the guy tried to pass too close to me, I knew I'd be hard-pressed not to hit him, to make him my target by default. Better yet, I was likely to strangle him. Something, some hidden emotion flickered in the captain's eyes as she glanced over their weapons, and then took in the sick grins on the soldiers' faces. I couldn't say what it was. Fear? Or something else? It was gone as soon as it had come, though. Despite her restrained position, she angled her head around slightly, and then I saw it: the look.

It passed between the captain and Chakotay, and it was one of their powder keg charged looks. Something significant was happening with that look…something of monumental importance. My heart thumped wildly. I could almost taste the adrenaline…

And the Devore were still behaving as if they hadn't a clue what they were in for.

"I think, under the circumstances…fifty lashes ought to do it." Juryk smiled, completely unconcerned and stopping in front of her to catch her glare of defiance. He sneered again, seeing it. "Better yet, make it seventy-five. If she survives, she can join the festivities afterward."

Festivities? Afterward? The inspector was making absolutely zero sense to me, but I was pretty sure whatever sense he made to himself with that statement was malicious in nature, even as I dismissed it from mind. There would be no afterward if he actually gave the order he was contemplating. If this wasn't some show to scare her into compliance…if he really intended trying to let them whip her…he had another thing coming entirely. I focused on the two of them, focusing with laser-intensity on the scene right in front of me. Waiting. Holding my breath and ready to spring.

"I'm warning you, Inspector," the captain drawled dangerously…or so _I_ thought, anyway, as she drew my attention like a tractor beam with that tone. "Reconsider your actions."

He smiled again, that cold, humorless smile I already hated, before he addressed her directly a final time. "I'd say the same to you, Captain. But that won't help you now. Based upon your unconscionable actions, I hereby seize your vessel on behalf of the Devore Imperium."

My hammering heart dropped into my boots, every muscle in my body tensed, as I felt everyone process the change in stakes with that one statement. And really, that was pretty stupid of him.

We had nothing left to lose now. He'd just made inaction a no-win scenario for us. Still, we waited. Collectively, we waited for the signal…from her, from Chakotay, or from Juryk himself.

Amazingly, the captain didn't say a word to that statement. Her eyes flashed, unmistakably found Chakotay's from across the room, and it was _the_ look again. I might have been crazy, but I could have sworn Chakotay nodded at her.

Juryk's eyes swept over her again…again coldly, and he made a vague gesture with his gloved left hand towards the command chairs. "Lash her to the railing," he ordered calmly, but altered, "bare back, of course, gentlemen – remove those shirts for her first."

My clenched jaw managed to drop in disbelief of his declaration as another Devore started to descend towards the command deck immediately, a blade already drawn and in his hand, and I heard Chakotay growl in open challenge, I _swear_ I heard it – or maybe, it had been me.

Either way, that was it, I decided, even as Andrews inclined his head toward me. _Now, _he meant_, _and I damn well agreed with him. The hell if he was going to have her stripped in front of us!I stepped forward in that instant, along with Andrews, toward the soldiers who were still holding her arms, and were now turning the captain towards the one with the knife, presumably so he could slice open her shirts. I was going for that one, but the guard that had been near me, blocking me earlier, had finally wised up to our intentions. He cut across and in front of me now with a hard left punch, and that first blow was really when all hell broke loose around us.

I let my guard take the swing, ducking back at the last instant so he only grazed me with his knuckles, taking his outstretched arm right above and below the elbow and pushing him in the direction of his own forward momentum, a slight twist on my part letting me kick out hard at his extended kneecap as I threw him forward, and then I was hearing the most satisfying crack in my life as his bones snapped and he gave a cry, going down, the whole leg crumpling under him–

A blast of heat shot right past me as I shoved him forward, pushing him further down to the deck to my left. I jumped past him, and I turned to see Rollins' head just barely missed by the shot that had come from across the room. And then he was between two of them, and too close to them for the frustrated guard across the room to fire at him again without risking hitting one of his own men. I noted how Andrews had been pulled back into a fight of his own just as another Devore hurled himself in front of me, swinging his huge gun straight at my forehead, hitting me once, pain exploding through my nose and making me see stars before he pulled back for another swing, and I had to duck it fast, but then Rollins broke free of his own fight, tackling my attacker when he tried to swing at me again, and I gained a few meters of ground, had almost reached the captain…

Another shot rang out, just behind me, catching the back of my shirt and causing me to crouch down in an attempt to get out of the line of fire. I'd felt the heat of the blast, but ignored it, as well as the sizzle of the fabric and the smell of smoke, because I was almost right there now – I launched myself across the remaining open space between the captain, myself, and the Devore she was now struggling against.

"Computer," the captain unexpectedly called out even as she struggled with her assailant, suddenly a ghost of a smile flitting across her proud, determined face as my eyes lit on my new target, just a meter away and who was trying to get a clear enough shot at her back with his knife. "Initiate–"

"Shut her up!" Juryk screamed from over to the side, realizing her intent – or part of it, anyway.

Someone hit her, just that quickly. I heard it as well as the muffled sound that escaped her as her head snapped back and she faded off for a second, but then I was there, finally, having fought my way past the guards between us. Another blast rang out somewhere across the room – and I must have blinked somehow without realizing it, because in a heartbeat Chakotay was suddenly standing between the captain and "my" new guard and had that one, was pulling him back and away from her, snapping the knife out of the man's hand with venom, and I switched gears immediately, my hands closing on the arm of one of the ones holding her instead – the one that had been my original target before knife boy reached the fray.

"Program Janeway–"

Another one hit her, but she barely paused this time as I started to pry the one guard's fingers off her arm, to get him to release her, and was well aware of him angling his own whip around to see if he could crack out a lash at me without hitting himself, but there was no chance, it was way too long, and he wasted precious time in even thinking about it. I stopped prying at his grip for a second, and my fist connected with his face before he could readjust his position–

"Theta–"

Red swirls of energy suddenly surrounded the entire group of us, Devore included. The red swirls turned into more soldiers, and in less than a nanosecond, I was grabbed by…someone…the death grip I'd reestablished on my guard's fingers manually loosened, and I whirled to face my attacker, growling in frustration – it was a Devore, of course, but I was primed for a fight and lashing out instinctively with my fist to free my arm from the hold on it.

But another voice, one I recognized from before called out over the cries, curses, and general mutterings of confusion, stopping me in my tracks.

"Captain Janeway. Inspector Juryk. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

It stopped _everyone_ in their tracks…amazingly, considering the intensity of the fighting that had just broken out between us. I blinked, surveying the new scene that was created by his unexpected presence.

The bridge crew was effectively surrounded, contained and restrained with the advent of the new arrivals. But Juryk's soldiers were surrounded also, and just as effectively contained. No one moved much at all. Like me, most of the humanoids present seemed to recognize that voice, that singular, distinctively sonorous voice. In the midst of the endorphins and cortisone making my heart pound so loudly it felt like I was watching the entire scene unfold through some sort of dim, foggy haze…in the midst of all of it, I recognized the tall man who'd materialized in the middle of the melee.

Inspector Kashyk, it seemed, had absurdly come to our rescue.

Or, maybe, just to laugh at our demise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimers**: See prologue

Chapter Seven

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

I fully expected Inspector Juryk to kill me…for challenging his authority, but most certainly for the command that had been on the tip of my tongue…_Theta Four._

The one compromise I'd made with Chakotay. Our out, in case the Devore…meaning Kashyk, though we'd silently agreed not to mention his name…proved unreasonable in their demands. Program Janeway Theta Four was set to have the computer lock onto all Devore life signs in key areas of the ship and transfer them directly to the brig. Affected areas were the bridge, Engineering, the transporter rooms, and each of the many weapons lockers scattered throughout the ship.

But the command could only be used once with the element of surprise on our side, and only went so far as to help us secure the ship quickly. It certainly didn't guarantee our success in fighting our way back out of Devore space once we had. I wasn't sure I was going to use it, if Juryk's focus remained entirely on me, but then he'd made the comment about seizing _Voyager_, and I could have kicked myself because he was only doing it to punish _me_.

In less than the blink of a practiced eye, I'd noted the swift movements of Paris, Andrews, Rollins and Chakotay. They weren't going to stand there and let the Devore deal out their twisted "punishment", and I seriously doubted anything I could say was going to stop them from interfering. Not under circumstances like these. They were going to interfere whether I wanted them to or not, which made getting the next words out of my mouth of singular importance. The Devore noted their intent as well, and from the way they'd been moving to react, weapons rising and redirecting menacingly, I knew those four men probably had only seconds left to live.

The fighting broke out immediately, and it was violent and fierce from the outset. Shots were fired even before I could open my mouth. I had a hell of a time trying to get out of the grip the first two had on me, but I damn well tried, and was shifted in the process so I didn't have a good view of the fighting. But I could hear punches being thrown and deflected, even over the scrambling of the two trying to keep their grip on me, and at one point I even swore I heard the sounds of bones cracking from somewhere nearby. Juryk tried to have me stopped as soon as I began the order, but the hits I took across the mouth and face were only able to stop me for so long, and I'd been well on the way to getting the command out without much trouble…

But it was frozen on my tongue by the telltale signs of energy dispersal and the appearance of Kashyk and his men on my bridge. I had no idea what _his_ intentions were, but I had no reason to assume he'd side with us over his own people. Despite his sudden appearance, I knew the command I'd been preparing to execute, Theta Four, would still have worked. The word "program" spilled out of my mouth as I continued to sound the order.

Until I caught Kashyk's guards moving to restrain the Devoran soldiers who were intent upon killing me, that was.

They actually moved to restrain not only my own crewmen, but to halt the actions of their comrades as well.

Stunned, I lapsed into silence in the middle of the word "Theta". Hardly daring to believe this sudden reprieve I'd been granted. I even had to remind myself to breathe as Kashyk assumed command of my bridge with singular ease.

And I, absurdly, even came close to laughter as I realized that this time, Kashyk's appearance had had all of the shock and awe value I imagine he strove so hard to achieve – and I didn't even resent him for it.

_Yet_.

"_Kashyk_," Juryk spat without preamble. He looked absolutely furious at the intrusion upon his disgusting little "diversion", and the reality began to fully penetrate through my disbelieving consciousness at that notice: Kashyk was actually benefiting _us_ with his presence.

A mind-boggling turn of events, but not one I could relax into complacency and trust, by any means. There was no assurance that rescuing us had been intentional on Kashyk's part, after all. I stood ready to resume my order to the computer at any moment.

"Captain Janeway. Inspector Juryk," Kashyk sarcastically greeted us both in that strong, silk-smooth and grating voice, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He strode in between us, to the center of the bridge, and took a long, scrutinizing look at the frozen tableau before him. I took a second to do the same, cringing at the bloody hand Chakotay was sporting and the cradled limbs of a few others, but we hadn't lost anyone, I noted with relief. And miraculously, no one appeared severely injured or requiring immediate medical attention. The Devore had clearly taken their fair share of hits; one of them was on the floor, his leg grotesquely twisted beneath him while he keened in agony in the background.

Then Kashyk chuckled darkly, turning a brilliant smile in my direction as he drew my complete focus before he graced his peer with a pointed stare. "What's all this, then? You don't approve of our new guests?" A sweep of his arm indicated me, Chakotay, and the crew assembled around us on the right side of the bridge. "I confess, I find that astounding." Kashyk craned his neck around to meet my eyes again. "Personally, I found them _stimulating_."

Registering the unexpected heat sweeping through me at his intense gaze, I forced myself to return his look levelly.

And pretended to ignore Kashyk's soldier aiming his weapon at my head.

Juryk motioned indignantly to Kashyk's soldiers, indicating for the release of his own men. I tensed further, waiting to see if my command would be required. Juryk was obeyed, though it took a nod from Kashyk to have the two nearest me released, and it looked increasingly likely that I would have to give the order despite Kashyk's unexpected arrival's briefly halting the confrontation between our people.

Kashyk's soldiers did not appear pleased to be intervening on our behalf, either. In fact, the whole lot of them looked distinctly uncomfortable as they stood there, anxiously awaiting Kashyk's next orders.

"Janeway proved uncooperative," Juryk growled roughly, finally deigning to make his case. "I'm seizing the vessel for her insubordination."

_Uncooperative_? I felt my chin raising and my nostrils flaring. Hell. I'd show him uncooperative…I hadn't even _begun_ with him yet.

"Inspector _Juryk_," I inserted loudly, not bothering to conceal the disgust in my tone, "has wandering _hands_. I simply demonstrated my dissatisfaction with his lack of respect for personal space. Not only did he decide to punish me for removing his hand for him, but he intended to take my ship over nothing more than his wounded pride. Obviously, I couldn't stand by and allow that to happen–"

"Shut up, _gaharay_ bitch," Juryk snarled, whirling on me in fury with his hand raised, ready to strike at me. Until Kashyk shifted an easy step into his path, to which Juryk simply locked eyes with me over the slightly taller Kashyk's shoulder and hissed, "You asked for what you're getting!"

My eyes flickered away from him. Coolly dismissing him. "We did nothing to provoke his despicable actions." Refusing to even acknowledge Juryk's outburst, I kept my gaze fixed on Kashyk – still not entirely believing he was here to intervene for our sakes. "We haven't altered our course or disobeyed a single one of your statutes," I was careful to note, ignoring the increased intensity my last statements drew from Kashyk's dark eyes. "So, by your own codicils, _his_ actions were unlawful," I finished, finally turning and glaring at the man in question with everything I had in me.

"_You_ started this by striking an officer of the Devore Imperium!" he snapped back.

My eyes flashed at him in anger, but I couldn't argue his statement in that moment. Yes. I had. And I probably should have stood my ground, gritted my teeth and let him bluster, bully, maybe even paw until he got bored on his own, but I hadn't, and there was no going back from that action now. And if we made it through this, as I was damned well determined we would, I owed my first officer one _hell_ of an apology. Because if that was the kind of thing that had been going on out here when he'd been afraid for me in _there_ the first time…

He'd deserved better from me than he'd gotten, that much was certain.

I could deal with self-recrimination later, and I looked instinctively to Kashyk to see his response to our arguments. I hadn't yet decided which of them was the lesser of two evils in the long run, but in the short run, my choice was painfully clear. It would be Kashyk or Theta Four, and Theta Four wasn't looking quite as promising now that I assumed Kashyk's ships had joined the small armada already flanking my ship.

Kashyk's eye-ridge arched. He coolly swept his gaze over Juryk's soldiers, who still stood with their whips at their sides. His eyes passed again over me, and he seemed to be scrutinizing me for some telltale indication of…something…but I was careful to show him nothing this time but what I wanted him to see. Eventually, his lips curled back into that smug smile of his.

"Inspector. Captain." His voice had taken on that falsely ingratiating tone that grated on my spine like nails on an old-fashioned chalkboard. "Clearly there's been a grave misunderstanding here. What do you say the three of us discuss this further in private? The captain's ready room should do nicely."

It wasn't a request.

But I resisted Kashyk's brusque, light-haired personal guard when he moved to usher me away from the crowd, standing firm as I leveled a glare in Kashyk's direction. "I trust my crew will be safe out here in the meantime?"

Kashyk's lips twitched…what wanted to be another smile, I guessed. Or a grimace. He exchanged a glance with Prax, the latter's eyes burning with his opinion, I could see from this angle. But Kashyk simply rolled his eyes and nodded to his men, catching their eyes in turn. "They remain unharmed, until an accord can be reached between us," he announced mildly. His eyes locked again with mine. "So long as they do nothing overtly…unwise," he qualified.

I relaxed only when he received grudging nods of acknowledgment from his men at the instruction.

Chakotay's eyes darkened with concern as I finally caught them, as did Tom's…I gave them both a confident nod I hoped reassured them that I could handle this, and that I wasn't worried. I didn't have the chance to look at anyone else, but they all had the prudence to remain silent this time, at least. And not to try and intervene, or do anything else stupid. I could only pray the rest of the crew was holding their own elsewhere on the ship.

_Here's hoping YOU__can manage to do the same this time_, _Captain_, my inner reason chided snidely. I ignored it.

Iexpected to be herded roughly to the doors without being asked if I agreed, but I was surprised to note that Juryk didn't appear to feel _he_ was in a position to argue the point, either; his dark glower scorched through my back, but he didn't protest the decision. We were loosely herded into my office behind Kashyk, his guards crowding around us until the doors closed behind us, and they melted back into their positions against the wall on either side of the doors.

"Now that it's just the three of us…Juryk…would you care to _really_ explain what transpired before I arrived?"

Surprise of surprises, Kashyk had taken the chair at my desk, leaving me to stand beside the despicable Inspector Juryk – who, in my estimation, must have clenched and unclenched those gloved fists of his perhaps a hundred times as he alternated his glare between me and Inspector Kashyk. But that was a good sign – comparatively, at any rate. It meant that Kashyk wielded some kind of authority over the other man, despite their equal ranks…or that it was Devoran policy for the two to maintain a civilized demeanor between them…

The second he opened his mouth, Juryk's first words shot the latter notion to hell.

"This isn't your concern, Kashyk!" he exploded. "The _gaharay_ bitch was outright insubordinate. She struck me! And then had the gall to disobey my direct command to apologize–"

"I believe the actual request was 'on my knees, begging forgiveness'," I cut in archly. Not willing to allow him to paint this picture any way other than the way it had actually unfolded.

He snarled, continuing as if I hadn't even spoken, "Though I gave her more than one opportunity to repent her foolish actions. I have every right to discipline her as I see fit now. I'm confiscating the vessel, removing her crew, and she _will_ be corrected for her transgressions." Though my brow rose disdainfully at his manner of referring to me, I didn't deign to dignify his insults with a response until his hand curled unexpectedly around my arm and he yanked me roughly against him.

Striking him again, in front of Kashyk this time, wasn't going to be the wisest course of action with regard to the rest of the crew, I knew, and I bit back on the impulse at _just_ the last second.

"Take your hands off me," I warned – much more evenly than I wanted to.

Juryk ignored me, sneering as his fingers only curled bruisingly deeper into my flesh. "Make me," he dared.

He had _no_ idea how close I was to doing just that. His audacity was as infuriating as it was sickening, and again, my hand twitched convulsively into a fist I had to work to keep at my side.

Kashyk's quiet chuckle was what drew my attention away from the disgusting alien threatening me, and I turned my head along with Juryk to glare at Kashyk then, eyes narrowing in on him. He found this _amusing_, did he?

His smile was smug as ever. Though I thought I could detect a hint of…_something…_behind that superior smirk of his. Not worry, but…apprehension, maybe? It was impossible to tell based solely on what little dealings I'd had with him thus far.

"Either way, Kashyk, this isn't your concern," Juryk grated. "I don't require your help to discipline her, so you can take your leave now. Unless of course, you're of a mind to stay and watch the festivities."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Kashyk drawled, making my eyes go wide in disbelief I couldn't quite hide.

He was coming around the side of the desk, steadily approaching us now. As soon as he was within reaching distance, he deliberately took my other arm and pulled me to his side as Juryk's grip slackened – most likely in similar disbelief.

"Why the hell not?" the second inspector spluttered, asking the obvious question for the both of us.

Kashyk casually pulled me around to the other side of him, away from his peer, and I admit I allowed him to do it with very little resistance on my part. And it pains me to admit I only stared up at him in distrusting amazement as he continued.

"Because the captain was only following my orders."

_What_? I almost blurted it aloud as my head tilted in disbelief. I imagined I must have looked like a confused dog in that moment, but hell, I wasn't too hard on myself about it, considering the outright lie he'd just so casually uttered…

His eyes were what held me silent through my escalating bewilderment. They burned with a light that I knew only I could see…a warning. To stay silent, I assumed. But I couldn't be sure until he elaborated, "Kathryn knows she belongs to me. She knew allowing anyone else to touch her would have left me…displeased."

At _that_ absurd declaration, cold chills ran through me. Because in that instant, with his eyes bearing into me as though he really did have some sort of twisted, unbased claim on my person, I found it impossible to breathe. I could never really be sure of why I allowed him to pull me against him in a clear display of ownership then, but I did. Against every instinct in my body, I allowed it.

_For the_ _moment_.

The look in those dark eyes of his was of a burning, fiercely possessive nature that should have been personally threatening. Especially coming from the violent alien who'd already had me restrained and injected with a potentially lethal, psychedelic chemical cocktail. From the man that had further taken the liberty of removing some of my clothing while I'd been unconscious from those chemicals. Yet all the while, those same eyes held a constant warning for me to remain silent. An almost urgent warning. One I had to decide whether or not was for his benefit alone or for the ultimate benefit of my crew before following…

"Ridiculous. What the hell are you talking about?" Juryk demanded, breaking the unholy spell between myself and Kashyk.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" As his eyes left mine, Kashyk's laughter was light and callous. But hard, nonetheless. "The captain has agreed to be my personal escort while her ship passes through our space. In return, so long as she obeys our codicils, I have promised to permit no harm to come to her or to her vessel. And this, unfortunately for you, my friend, does include her crew."

My mouth dropped slightly open. So did Juryk's.

_What the hell was he talking about_?

"You can't do that," Juryk flatly declared. Only he didn't sound convincingly sure of that.

I stared at Kashyk. Completely ignoring Juryk now as Kashyk's words ran through me like arctic water. _Could_ he? Could he do that?

And what in the hell was _I_ going to do about it if he actually tried?

"I can't what?" Kashyk burned him with a single, scorching glance. Showing the first true animosity towards his fellow inspector yet, and it was breathtaking to see it sparking in his eyes as they narrowed considerably, his head cocking back at a challenging angle. "_What_ can't I do, Juryk?" he challenged dangerously.

The other man seemed to shrink before my eyes. I remained in absolute shock but at least retained the presence of mind not to assert my own viewpoint verbally.

Yet.

_Saving _us. It was becoming clearer by the moment. Kashyk was actually _saving_ us from his counterpart.

At what price, however, remained to be seen…

Juryk was still spluttering. "The arrangement you describe hasn't been observed for years! You can't just…_claim_ the woman…the whole ship…!"

"I can, and I have." Kashyk was seemingly unaffected by Juryk's argument. "If you truly challenge my authority in this matter, we can contact the Imperium, but somehow I doubt they'll be pleased to be interrupted from official government business just to listen to your whining complaints about my sex life. But then…I also doubt they'd be surprised. Your poor judgment regarding women is already widely known, isn't it?"

It struck a nerve, that last statement. Juryk's entire face suffused a deep burgundy tinge, and he exploded. "_That_ is not a woman!" he roared, pointing at me in a perfect display of Devore philosophy. "And if you have somehow mistaken her for one, perhaps it's your judgment which has been impaired. That…_toahga_…is a _gaharay_, and an insufferably vicious one at that. She assaulted me…willfully and publicly. Your little _arrangement_ doesn't permit her to disobey commands imparted by an officer of the Imperium, and it certainly doesn't give her the right to strike one!"

"No. It doesn't," Kashyk amiably agreed. "You're quite right on that account. I will have to punish her, of course."

I stiffened. And there it was. The catch.

Of course. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy. Of course Kashyk hadn't just waltzed onto my bridge in order to save me from his depraved kinsman.

Of course he hadn't.

Instinctively, I was drawing back and preparing to give him a fight, but I already knew I'd take whatever he could dish out in exchange for _Voyager_'s safety.

And after that, we would be hightailing it out of Devoran space…I'd seen more than enough to know that continuing through the region, even in the hopes of cutting a good two years off our journey, wasn't worth the risk. Our previous so-called intelligence on the Imperium be damned. Even without the added risk of smuggling telepaths, this area of space was a cesspool of a death trap. We'd take Kir and his people somewhere else, and get them settled on a nice planet somewhere outside of Devore Space, and that was just going to have to be good enough this time.

Even I do, occasionally, know when to quit. And it was now.

"Unacceptable," Juryk hissed in response, drawing me back to the problem at hand. "The insult was dealt to me. Therefore, the method of her correction is mine to both determine and to oversee."

"Ah…I'm afraid not." Kashyk shook his head in mock sadness. "I saw the methods you intended to employ when I arrived. Whips, Juryk – really? When was the last time _that_ archaic punishment was imparted by anyone? For any infraction?" He laughed, but the menace underlying his false humor was just detectable to us both. "You'll have the good captain and her people thinking we're little better than barbarians."

Ha. No danger of that, considering Kashyk himself had convinced me of it well before Juryk had done a damned thing. And I'd known better than to trust he was here solely for our benefit, damn it, and now I was going to pay the price for it, too.

"What does it matter what the savages think of us? I want her hide, and I'm entitled to it!"

"No," Kashyk refused simply. "We both know you'd leave her quite useless for my purposes – if she survived at all."

"And why the hell should you _care_ what happens to her?" Juryk himself asked the question I was dying to know the answer to.

Not once did Kashyk move aside and allow the other inspector access to me. That, more than anything, baffled me. Considering the cruelty I already knew Kashyk was capable of inflicting…capable of _enjoying_ inflicting…it simply baffled me that he cared enough to be sure I wasn't maimed or killed by another of his own kind.

But it wasn't the first time he'd shown this bizarre personal distinction between inflicting harm and causing irreparable damage.

"She's a _gaharay_ for the love of God; you can choose another for your purposes. They all look the same in the dark, anyway."

I shot him a scathing glower for _that_ cheap parting comment. Only to turn it on Kashyk less than an instant later as he added:

"Yes, but they don't all have the talent this one has in that department."

Outrage aside, his weak rebuttal was telling, and that was the moment in which I began to fathom why Kashyk had summoned the doctor during the last inspection, and why he was intervening on my behalf now.

Inspector Kashyk wanted something from me – from me personally. He wanted it badly enough to make my life mean something to him. Something worth losing face over – the way he risked doing now in front of one of his peers.

He was defending me, and as much as I hated to admit it, quite possibly saving my life in the long run. _Me_. A _gaharay_. And there was no reason I could think for him to do that unless there was something he wanted more than he wanted to preserve his inflated, all-important ego.

And whatever that thing was, it was certainly a hell of a lot more than a passing dalliance with me.

"Captain Janeway's ship is my personal project." My ears pricked up at his continuing deception. "I will oversee their journey through this space, and I will see to her correction now. Though of course you're free to stay and watch…to be sure she suffers accordingly. Prax!"

He was there in a heartbeat, creeping forward from the background. Kashyk pulled him aside, conferring quietly with him for a brief instant, in which Juryk simply stood and fumed in my general direction. Apparently at a complete loss for words.

When Prax turned away from his superior to contact one of his men and Kashyk took another step towards me, I didn't wait to be grabbed this time, but stepped deftly away from all three men, backing my way around towards my desk as I leveled a challenging glare at Kashyk, hissing, "If you think I'm just going to stand still and let you–"

"You will, or your ship is forfeit," came his infuriatingly calm retort.

And the damnable thing of it all, was that we both knew I would. Just as we both knew I didn't have it in me not to _try_ to fight my way out of it first.

He smiled mirthlessly and took yet another step forward. "You can glower at me all you like, but I'm not the one who broke the rules, Captain. There is a price to pay when our codicils are violated; you have been aware of this from the outset of your journey through our territory."

When I gave no indication of backing down, he shrugged, but his eyes gleamed with that intense warning light again as soon as his back was turned to the other two men.

"The choice is yours. Make it swiftly – and _carefully_, Captain. Prax's men will return any…ah, yes."

Prax had, at Kashyk's indication, helped himself to my replicator again. The older Devore held out one of two mugs, which Kashyk took with relish.

"Have you tried this, Juryk?" he inclined his head to his peer, lifting the cup to indicate its contents. "It's one of their beverages. I'm rather fond of this…coffee. Has quite a kick to it…no?" He shrugged as though disappointed at the disgusted upward curl of Juryk's lip but couldn't help the trademark smirk. "Suit yourself."

"Inspector." They both glanced over at me, with varying levels of venom in their alien dark eyes. "_Kashyk_," I clarified, ignoring the second mug in Prax's hand as I moved just as deftly out of his reach, as well as taking a second to note his displeased expression when I did it.

But a displeased Prax, I had already decided, was a good thing; it was a _pleased_ Prax that would ultimately concern me.

I kept my voice falsely pleasant, the forced smile stretching my lips in response to Kashyk's questioning gaze. "Just what form of…_punishment_…am I expected to undergo for the crime of defending my crew from _this_ man's," I jerked my head in Jurky's direction, "disgusting and cowardly intentions?"

"Insolent little _bitch_," Juryk swore, taking a step towards me and being halted by a single look from Kashyk.

I let myself savor his impotent frustration, even knowing there was yet a price to be paid for it. And waited for Kashyk's reply to dictate my own response.

It came in the form of the doors swishing open. Not the doors that opened out onto the bridge, but the other entrance. The one I rarely, if ever, used. One of Kashyk's soldiers, whom I barely recognized as part of his normal entourage of guards, came into the room. He barreled his way over to Prax, and what I saw in his hand made every last ounce of blood drain from my face.

A syringe.

_Damn it, Kathryn, you should have expected that…!_

I should have.

I don't know what I had been thinking was going to happen, but it wasn't _this_. Not after last time. Not after he'd almost killed me, damn him!

I knocked the cup Prax had placed on the edge of my desk clear off the ledge in my haste to put more distance between myself and the onerous lieutenant, who'd started towards me again. The sinister gleam in his eye coupled with the shrug Kashyk shot in my direction renewed my determination to work a way out of this – and then Kashyk's guard was gripping at my arms from behind, having somehow circled around behind me while I'd been avoiding Prax, and despite the instinctive backwards blow to his throat with my elbow that freed me of that fumbling grip, the guard was pushing me back _into_ Prax by way of defending against my reaction. Prax wasted no time, had my left arm in a vice grip even as I lashed out at his nose with my right and pulled me towards him. He deflected my blow with his free arm, that same arm swiftly wrapping around me just as tightly, holding me still, and I was lost again, _that_ quickly.

I couldn't break free. And it was happening _again_.

"Kashyk. Damn you, don't do this," I growled, out of options even as I bucked furiously against Prax's hold despite of knowing it. I couldn't _believe_ this was happening – _again_.

He'd already reached me. Those consuming dark eyes once again dominating my vision as he motioned for Prax to stretch out my left arm, which Prax did all too easily, despite my angry resistance.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Kashyk drawled, sealing my fate, "but Juryk is entitled to retribution." He pulled the cap from the syringe. Held up the cyan colored substance to the light, eyeing the contents and watching Juryk do the same before nodding and finding my burning gaze once more. "There are consequences for breaking our laws." His tone was an entirely pitiless chide.

The syringe approached my arm, bared to the elbow where Prax had ripped my uniform sleeve jacket open yet again.

It was going to happen. Again. There was nothing I could do to stop it, I had to accept it, and in that moment, I could feel my expression hardening. The tightening in my jaw as my chin came up to meet his too-dark eyes.

"You'll kill me," I reminded him quietly. Not expecting it to change his mind, really.

Unsurprised when it didn't.

He touched the syringe to the bend in my elbow, the sharp metal cold against my skin, and no matter how hard I tried to jerk my arm away from it, I couldn't move enough to avoid it.

"I have it taken care of," he assured me in his typical mocking tones. His eyes flashed and he smiled a faint, condescending smile. "Trust me?" he suggested – sardonically, of course.

"When hell freezes over," I gritted back through clenched teeth as the needle slipped under my skin, into my vein, and…

Fire started to spread through me even as Kashyk leaned into me, pressing his gloved palm over my mouth, I supposed to help stifle my involuntary screams, and then his mouth was hovering at my ear, moist breath puffing warmly over my skin, my hair, and he whispered the most absurd thing I'd thought I'd ever heard in that one moment:

"_Just_ _play along, Captain_."

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

Our last minute escape was about as narrow as they come. But we were used to that. Too used to it to dwell for more than a few minutes on the nightmare we'd been on the verge of facing with Juryk's unconscionable attempt to… I really couldn't even _think_ about it, but let's just say I thought we'd left that kind of atrocity back in the Alpha Quadrant with the Cardassians.

After Juryk departed the ship in a huff, the entire bridge crew did manage an inward sigh of relief, but it was brief. There was still the second group of armed soldiers holding us hostage, and still an entire group of people down in the cargo bay whose lives were literally hanging, suspended in the balance. But Kashyk didn't remain long, either. Juryk's men had already inspected the ship, and Kashyk didn't linger to perform another. The inspector had appeared on the bridge shortly after Juryk's departure, Kathryn following behind him after only a moment. He reminded us to stay on course, took a last look at Kathryn that, once again, sent chills up and down my spine – and ordered his men back to their ship.

And we were left standing on the bridge in disbelief. Staring at each other. Intact.

For the most part.

Once we determined all Devore ships had departed and everyone was rematerialized successfully, and after the rest of the ship checked in unharmed and reported no incidents elsewhere, I started rounding up just about the entire bridge crew with obvious physical mementos from the brawl to take down to sickbay with me. I could feel the trickle of blood that hadn't quite subsided yet from the gash across my palm…where I'd grabbed the knife from the one that had been in the process of trying to get near her to slice open her jacket. And the trickle of blood from Tom's obviously broken nose was damned grisly-looking. Rollins estimated a sprained elbow. Andrews flat out refused to admit he was injured, but Kathryn spoke up in my defense at his second demurral, reasoning coolly that since he wasn't injured, he had no reason to fear what would clearly be a short stay in sickbay for a scan to make sure.

Andrews hesitated. His hand going to the back of his neck to rub nervously at some sort of irritation under his uniform – and hunched his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered dejectedly, turning to follow the rest of us into the turbolift.

"Crunch time's over, Ensign," she admonished curtly over her shoulder as she worked at the console between our chairs, taking in reports as they filtered in…completely missing his glance back at her that was quickly followed up with a grin that spread through the rest of us like a virus.

"Aye, Captain." He limped onto the turbolift behind us – no longer bothering to conceal the injury I hadn't even _seen_ before – but in much better spirits about it, at least.

I moved to follow along behind him, hesitating just briefly and taking a chance at starting this with her now. "Captain."

"Hmm?" She didn't look up, but even from this angle I could see the nasty bruise she had forming at her cheek from where she'd taken a few nasty punches in the middle of giving that order to the computer.

"You could use a trip down yourself." I kept my tone mild…unwilling to start a confrontation at the moment if I could avoid it…but just as unwilling to let her ignore her own injuries. "Care to join us now – or should I tell the doctor you'll be down later?"

She froze. For just a second, but freeze was exactly what she did, and I frowned. Deeply.

Something was off.

But now wasn't the time. Eyes wanting to narrow, I fought the impulse, prompted only, "That eye is going to start swelling pretty badly from the look of it."

She finally looked up at me. Her eyes weren't the hard challenge I was expecting – fortunately. She simply nodded, the back of her hand absently brushing her cheek as if she was just realizing before she caught herself and lowered her arm. "I'm coming in a few minutes," she allowed. "As soon as relief gets here and I talk to the rest of the Brenari. I might even see you down there."

"Relief" meant Tuvok, I knew, and I nodded. Actually satisfied.

For now.

If Kathryn's mood had been surprisingly compliant – worrisome, on the whole, and I'd get to that later, when everything else was taken care of – then the doctor was more than making up for it with his behavior.

The EMH was in a damn foul mood, one I've rarely seen even from him. I could only assume it had something to do with the circumstances of the last inspection…when I'd also been in need of his services. He'd called after me not to go picking any more fights if I could help it…

Damn. And yet here I was, back again, bringing friends this time.

This wasn't going to be pretty, I realized grimly, taking in his surly demeanor at the scene we presented filing in…half of us limping, to make matters even worse.

"Sit down," he ordered brusquely, snatching his medical tricorder and scanning wand from the nearby tray. Tom took the brunt of his obvious ire first. "I'd ask for your aid, Mr. Paris," he sniped, "but from the look of you, you're in no condition to help." His photonic jaw worked back and forth as he waved his hand at the two far biobeds in annoyance when Andrews and Rollins hesitated, unsure of whether he'd meant for them to sit, also. He turned back on Tom, grousing, "I'd have thought at least my own medical student would have exercised more caution with regard to his physical well being. But I can see now that I'm living in the land of the perpetually deluded where you're all concerned," he snapped. Tom raised both eyebrows at me over the doctor's shoulder, whistling silently, but said nothing.

The rest of them looked to me, too, their eyes widening at his overly sharp, sniping disapproval, and I sighed. Absently tugging at my ear as I tried to soften him, for the sake of the others if nothing else, "Look, Doctor…this isn't exactly what it looks like. We were directly provoked." I coughed, feeling a strange tickle in my throat as I felt compelled to admit, "This time."

"I'm sure you were." He snorted darkly, unimpressed, scanning up and down each one of us and actually stopping at me first when he finished the preliminary diagnoses. "Care to tell me what," his beady eyes and dark brows flashed in my vision as he met my eyes directly, "in the _cosmos_ – was worth provoking a physical conflict with large, militaristic aliens who also happen to tote around guns the size of your _torsos_?" he growled caustically.

After everything that had just gone down up on the bridge, I'd already had about enough of coddling his fragile little programmed personality. I heard my own tone hardening as I retorted, "I'm sorry, Doctor. Would you rather be sitting here right now treating the captain for say…fifty _lashes_ to her back…from a whip about the size of _her_?"

He blinked at me. Looking around the room and meeting everyone's eye one by one, probably to gauge the level of exaggeration I might be employing. They all met his interrogative scrutiny with stoic, grim expressions. Finally, he turned back to me, looking even angrier that he had to concede the point when the deadly serious gazes he received in return confirmed my estimate. His jaw still moving, working furiously as he lifted my hand into the air, carefully running a sterilizer over my palm before swapping the tool in his hand for the tissue regenerator.

But he huffed a shallow sigh of defeat. "Tell me what happened, Commander," he allowed in a more reasonable tone as he glanced up at me again to qualify, "and start from the beginning."

He ran the dermal regenerator over me next, then told me to wait for my bruises while he fixed Tom's nose, the next most serious injury by his estimate, and I gave him the broad picture of what had happened while he worked. He seemed to be deflating, coming back to a more normal affect and demeanor.

Thankfully.

He instructed Tom to lie back while he used the osteo regenerater on him, and his tone was something less than a growl at least. Until I reached the part about the captain negotiating with Juryk and Kashyk to get us out of trouble with Juryk.

You'd have thought I'd phasered him. He froze in the middle of repairing the torn skin over Tom's healed bones, raising his head to fix me with a glare that…hell, a glare I would've put down more as something likely to have come from Kathryn than I would have from the hologram. "I beg your pardon, Commander, but…_what_ did you just say?" he demanded.

"Doctor?" I didn't have any clue what his problem was now.

"You just said they went into her ready room. The captain. And both inspectors," he repeated curtly.

I nodded warily. "That's what I said, Doctor."

"And you didn't think it might not be _wise_ to send her in there…_by herself…_with the man who'd just tried to have her _whipped_? And also with the other inspector, who'd already inj–" He cut himself off in the middle of his incredulous diatribe, an odd look crossing his photonic face. A look of… "Never mind," he muttered strangely, turning back to Tom.

We all shared a suspicious look as he studiously avoided looking at any one of us.

"Doc?" Tom asked quietly, staring up at the hologram. _Finally_ deciding to give me a little help here, I noted…but I got a distinctly uncomfortable feeling in my gut then, especially when I placed the look that had crossed over the EMH's face. It was _guilt_ that had flashed through those holographic features as he'd swiftly closed his mouth and backtracked.

I felt my expression darkening steadily, an internal yellow alert sounding within me. "The man who'd already _what_, Doctor?" I demanded, leaning forward on the biobed in his direction. "What do you know about the captain and Inspector Kashyk that I don't?"

He stared at me. The silence a thick, suffocating blanket over the whole group of us.

"Yes, Doctor," her voice came sailing out across the room at just that moment as Kathryn came waltzing through the opening doors, "what do you know about Inspector Kashyk that _we_ don't? I'd be interested to hear the answer to that, myself."

I turned to her immediately. And I was right about the eye. It was swelling up like hell, and it had to be difficult for her to see properly out of it by now.

Tom whistled softly as he sat up at the sound of her voice and saw it, too, and the doctor took one look at her, swapped out the instrument he'd been using on Tom for the tricorder again, and approached her, scanning furiously. He met her eyes as he read the results, and with the mood he was in, I half-expected him to launch into a tirade at _her_ then, but she held his fierce gaze. As if daring him to say one word to her, and I held my breath.

He didn't dare, though. Instead he glanced down, and the hand with the scanning wand fell to his side. "I don't suppose there's any chance this latest incident has led to a decision to leave this dangerous part of space? _Before_ things escalate into further physical violence?" he inquired defeatedly.

His question, nowhere near a direct answer to the question that had been originally asked about Kashyk, gave me pause.

Because he was right. Given our last two experiences, it was the best course of action I could see, probably the safest, for all of us. Things had turned out to be a lot trickier with these inspections than we'd expected, the Devore were proving to be a lot more volatile, and the wisest thing to do for the ship would probably be just to turn around. Try and find another way. Even if it added a few more years to our journey…there was no use taking a shortcut we weren't likely to be able to get through alive.

I turned back to her, waiting to see her response to his question. Unfortunately, her expression was impossible to read with half an eye closed, obscuring her expression, but she had paused, too. Her hands going to her hips as she admitted, "The thought had crossed my mind, Doctor." Her eyes rested on Andrews and Rollins, who were still awaiting treatment. She straightened. "But the inspector and I have worked things out. From here on out, I think we can expect things to run more smoothly. We should be dealing with inspector Kashyk's teams exclusively, and I'm confident we'll be able to handle him."

The doctor only grunted noncommittally, obviously less than pleased with her reasoning, but I nodded. "Good enough for me," I agreed automatically.

Even if I didn't. What she'd just given was the abridged version of the conversation that had taken place inside that ready room. There was more to it than that, a hell of a lot more, and her significant squeeze of my arm as she crossed to stand beside me told me she realized that I knew that wasn't all there was to the decision. She was also letting me know now that she'd be filling me in as soon as we could get the chance to talk in private.

Her reasoning seemed to be good enough for everyone else, though.

"You can take Mr. Paris's place on the biobed, Captain," the doctor nodded to Tom at his questioning glance. "I'm finished with you, Ensign." The EMH turned his attention back to Kathryn. Sighing deeply. "I assume you're too busy for treatment, as usual. I suppose I should be grateful to see you down here voluntarily at all." He ignored her swiftly-forming glare, deigning not to notice it. "I'll take care of you first, if Lieutenants Rollins and Andrews don't mind waiting–"

"That's not necessary," she shook her head immediately, glancing over the two at the far side of the room, still waiting for treatment. "It's only a little uncomfortable, and they were here first. If Commander Chakotay is finished, he can take over on the bridge until you're done with me?"

I wasn't, but the lingering bruises could certainly wait until tonight. I'd come back for them when it wasn't so crowded in here, as I promised the doctor. He frowned deeply, pissed off at that decision, too, but I was done with trying to deal with him for the day. Frankly, Kathryn was better at it than I was, anyway, even if it wasn't her idea of a picnic lunch, either.

"Check in with Tuvok," she instructed me in a low murmur as I moved to pass by her, heading for the exit. "His teams were still scanning for anything…interesting either Devore group might have left behind."

I nodded, understanding that she preferred to keep our suspicions about what the Devore could have planted – while they were tearing apart the ship – between as few officers as possible. To avoid making the rest of the crew more nervous than they already were. At least for now, until the suspicions proved founded.

"I'll see you in my ready room in…" she scanned the other two, making a haphazard guess about the severity of their injuries and estimated, "an hour?"

I nodded. "An hour's fine," I assured her.

* * *

**Kashyk**

**

* * *

**

I could have killed Prax for his oversight. In fact, I very nearly did. He should have warned me the _instant_ Juryk's fleet had popped up on sensors, damn him – not well _after_ his ships had detained _Voyager_!

I let him know when we'd returned to _Anestryx_, in no uncertain terms, what his error would cost him, which was the promotion he'd been steadily working towards over the past six years. A blithering idiot like him would never make inspector. Not under my watch, as I assured him heatedly. He'd just lost my bid for his advancement, which I'd been prepared to give him until today. To make sure the point hit home, I informed him of this publicly. His beady little eyes had burned into the deck all the while as I'd berated him, in front of every junior officer present at the command center, letting me know I'd had the intended results.

He would make no such error again. Neither would any of the rest of them, upon observing Prax's shame that day.

He had deserved it, every _fraction _of it, for letting Juryk anywhere near _Voyager_.

Juryk had had his hooks well into the ship by the time I got there, had already developed ideas about how to utilize it for his own political…and personal…ends. Its Borg circuitry was probably what had drawn him there, but he'd already cultivated interest in the crew…most specifically, in the women, _and_ in her. Even through his anger with her, I'd seen how he had that greedy glint in his eye which I remembered so well from childhood. Had I not arrived when I did…he would have harmed her significantly. Taken the ship and the rest of the crew. Effectively destroyed my chances at manipulating them into finding that wormhole. And probably used the telepaths he'd have eventually discovered to destroy my own career, once he'd traced their route back from _Voyager_ and it became apparent that I'd allowed their transfer from the Nerelli freighter and hadn't detained all ships involved. I _know_ he would have done precisely that.

Because I know him. Almost as well as I know myself.

Fortunately, he's no real match for me. He may have been my protégé, the only one I have ever taken under my wing, but he had cut those ties well over two decades ago, and thus, had never developed the refinement that I had. He'd never really had a chance to open his mind to the finer, more delicate points of our line of work. His vision was lacking, his efforts, concerns and methods still low-brow and obvious, and thus, no real competition for me.

But for raw intelligence, he could match me, couldn't be dismissed out of hand as no threat whatsoever. Truthfully, if he'd continued on under my tutelage, he might have become something…fantastic. Something good enough to complement even me, perhaps. We could have enhanced one another so beautifully, could have been a team to rival any in the course of history.

All of this had once been possible between us.

It was a shame he had not been able to see past certain unfortunate actions of mine. That he had severed the bond between us, and forced us to become the bitter enemies that we most assuredly are today…

But I was being dishonest again. _I_ had cut those ties. My actions had led him to it, as surely as if I had severed our connection myself. I even somewhat understood it. My drunken actions that unfortunate night, all those many years ago…

It had not been my finest moment, and I regretted it. To this day, did not allow myself to become intoxicated in remembrance of what I was capable of. But I'd still never quite regretted it as much as it had become his lifelong goal to _make_ me regret it. To his continued, burning desire for proper vengeance.

And, unbeknownst to either man, Prax's oversight had given Juryk the perfect opportunity to extract that vengeance today.

The problem with beaming over and intervening before Juryk could irreparably damage my plans, was that he had been absolutely correct in his assertion that I had no right to be there. Interfering with another's inspection isn't done. It's strictly taboo. And so I had to come up with a plausible reason for my presence on that bridge, and I admit I had been scrambling wildly, had no idea what that reason was going to be even to the point that my teams and I had materialized on _Voyager's_ softly carpeted deck.

I had had to take great care to walk the line between asserting my own claim over the vessel, over the woman herself, and between piquing Juryk's instincts regarding just _how much_ I cared to protect them at this juncture. If he had sensed _that_ – had sensed my _urgency_ to keep him away from it – if he had suspected for an instant that my intervention was anything other than pride, or convenience and passing self-serving interest…everything would have come unraveled.

And the only claim left open to me, considering that I had not openly detained the vessel upon my first inspection, had not confiscated it outright but permitted them to continue onward through our space, was the claim on _her_.

He was also correct in declaring that the ancient practice hasn't been officially observed in years. And _I_ certainly had never invoked it before – something else he was well enough aware of. Yet it was the _only_ reason, legitimate or otherwise, that I could think of which, when Juryk took his furious, whining complaints to the magistrate later, would be looked upon with no more than a raised eye-ridge, and if I was lucky, a knowing chuckle and a winking suggestion that Juryk look the other way and go on about his own business, leaving the ship alone.

The magistrate – like most of the commodores, and the emperor himself – has always favored me slightly over Juryk. I have the stronger personality, the greater charisma. And most importantly, the more lucrative track record.

I admit having resorted to banking on that knowledge when I'd declared the false claim over Janeway.

Nonetheless, that assertion itself had been dangerous, not only with regard to my effort to demonstrate a less malevolent presence to Janeway after the botched fiasco of the incompatible drugs, but especially with regard to Juryk's interpretation of it.

And so, to ensure he believed I'd only been amusing myself with her, only cared to ensure that I could go on using her for my purposes in that regard for a while longer, I'd had to put on a hell of a show of punishing her for her real transgressions. And I knew that Juryk would only be satisfied in that respect if I could be careful to demonstrate a normal, callous disregard for causing her intense pain. But I had given Janeway my word that the intense pain she had suffered initially had been an accident, one that I would never allow a repeat occurrence of, and so I was, quite neatly, trapped between the two necessities.

For another long moment, while scrambling for a way out of the mess Prax had created for me with his negligence, I had nearly panicked.

Fortunately at the last second, the answer had come to me in a stroke of unquestionable genius.

Again.

My chemicals are famous throughout the Imperium. As well they should be; I have spent a great deal of time and personal finance developing them. And Juryk had trained under me, had, under my instruction, familiarized himself with the most infamous among them. He knew what my compounds were capable of, knew the level of agony I'm able to produce in just about any humanoid. Surely, he would accept this method of punishment as a valid one. But the chemicals I'd been using would be recognized by Juryk on sight, I knew, possibly by color if his memory was good – and I knew that it was. As good as my own, in fact. And he would have been satisfied with no less than the kind of pain I had inadvertently caused her that first day – the pain I couldn't _afford_ to cause her again…

Yet anything less would have left him suspicious. Dangerously so, especially considering the personal claim I'd had to boast over Janeway to keep him from killing her. That alone had aroused more suspicion than I'd ever wanted, and of the precise sort that I _didn't_ need him developing.

The true mark of my genius was in pulling Prax aside, out of earshot of Juryk, and covertly explaining my intentions without being overheard. In ordering him to find a harmless food dye that would make the necessary color change, and not have Juryk suspicious of any trickery when I injected her. So long as he didn't peer too closely at the texture within the syringe, that was…

I'd still been just this side of terrified. Of the _gaharay_ captain and her reaction to the claims I had been forced to make. And also of her reaction to discovering, upon injection, that what she had received was not going to be the torturous substance she had expected when she would first lay eyes upon the syringe. I had no ability to warn her of my intent, of the seriousness of the situation with Juryk or of everything that rested upon my success in fooling him – for the both of us. I knew she was intelligent, yes, but she was still _gaharay_. I didn't know what her propensity for deception was, or whether she'd have the ability to pick up on subtle cues from me to keep quiet, and not to openly contradict my claim over her. Her pride, that streak of authority and steel I found so compelling in her was perhaps what would cause the entire deception to unravel, if I couldn't manage her cooperation…

But it had turned out all right in the end, somehow.

She'd played her part beautifully. Better, even, than I could have expected of her. She'd miraculously picked up on my warning undertones and intense eye language warning her not to contradict my claim over her person. I hadn't known what kind of acting ability she really possessed. Her eyes had still been spitting magnificent fire at me at the bite of that needle into her silken flesh and at my urgent warning hissed in her ear to play along.

What I had injected her with was mere child's play – quite literally. It was the chemical available to any standard Imperial soldiers, not of my own development, and so crude, and often ineffective, that I've reserved it for those unfortunate instances in which I'm forced to use the children of potential traitors and telepaths to inspire cooperation on their parents' parts.

I'm not a monster. I wouldn't deliberately harm a child significantly. Not personally. That sort of cruelty holds little appeal for me. Substance Eleven-Five in the general database is mild enough in painful effects so as to be suitable for injection into younglings. It creates only moderate shocks to the nervous system. Shocks which, in their sensitive, already terrified little bodies is painful enough to produce a dramatic, tearful display from the child for his horrified, doting – and subsequently quite cooperative – parent to observe helplessly from another room. Yet it isn't torturously painful, and more importantly, causes no lasting damage to their small systems.

It was more shock and awe than it was painful. Woefully ineffective as far as pain-causing elements went, and quite useless against most self-respecting adult persons.

And I saw it in her eyes when she realized that fact. When she recognized, with a flicker of surprise, that the pain wasn't worsening. That the mild shocks to her system weren't burning intensely, or making her writhe in agony but merely were intensely uncomfortable. And she saw, thankfully, in my eyes, that I needed her to pretend otherwise. Grandiosely, or we were finished.

"_Play along," I mouthed furiously to her again, growing ever more fearful as she looked about to question me again._

_She got it. In that instant, she saw what I was doing. Her eyes darted only once to Juryk before those angrily-drawn brows creased to mimic pain, and she began writhing in earnest against Prax's hold. Screaming behind his hand. Her physical efforts were impressive, rivaling the involuntary squirming the first injection had had her making without her conscious consent, created a sheen of perspiration along her visible skin, further advancing our cause. And her widening eyes, the horrified tint in them, all the while reinforced by her still-present anger, had done the job remarkably. _

_In fact, if I hadn't already heard the real thing from her, her pretend, muted screams would even have been tugging at visceral parts of me, probably…_

_Once she'd picked up my nod to begin winding down her performance, I'd turned to see Juryk's disgusted but deflatedly convinced expression with supreme relief. I casually ordered Prax to release her, heard her slump to the ground, pretending difficulty catching her breath, and feigning inability to stand. _

_I still knew a final few comments from me were going to be necessary in order to seal this deal. To complete the deception._

"_I presume you're satisfied, of course?" I drawled – without giving him the opportunity to answer. "But if you'd like to have a go at her, provided you leave her relatively intact when you're finished, you're quite welcome to…?"_

_His lip curled up in utter disgust. "She's not my type, Kashyk," he spat derisively._

_A lie. Most certainly a lie. The very predicament she'd been in when I'd first arrived had proven that to begin with. And he and I had always had similar taste in women._

_Which was exactly what stopped him from taking me up on the offer, what I'd known would stop him from taking me up on it. Juryk would never share a woman with me, gaharay or no._

_Never again, at any rate. _

_Her eyes flickered up to me then, her hand on her throat as she coughed and her gaze spat contempt at me, raw outrage that I'd had the audacity to make him the offer, but I wasn't at liberty to explain my reasoning to her yet. Doubted I would even after Juryk had left, and I simply smiled blandly at her. Turning back to Juryk. _

"_Well…if you change your mind." I shrugged. "I doubt she'll keep my interest throughout her entire journey through our space. Something else will probably come along at some point. If you'd like, I can send you a message letting you know when I'm through with her…?" At his disgusted stare, and her incredulous glare, I laughed. Calmly and easily, some of the tightness in my gut, around my lungs releasing for the first time. "No? Suit yourself." I left Janeway on the floor, as if I wasn't even remotely concerned about her, circling around her to pick up my coffee. Sipping casually at the disgusting liquid and regarding Juryk calmly as he turned on his heel without further delay and started heading for the doors. _

"_Are you leaving, then?" I called solicitously after him. He grunted, and I added, "A pleasure to see you again, Juryk – we should do this more often. It's been a while…"_

"_Rot in hell, Kashyk," he snapped over his shoulder, before stomping out onto the bridge._

_I laughed genuinely at that. If somewhat ruefully. _

He was most assuredly still raw over our falling out. Even now, all these years later. And he could cause great difficulty for me, if he wanted to. If even a second of our performance had been questionable, he'd have noted it. If anyone would have noticed, it would have been him.

It only made me more determined to pull this whole thing off successfully. To use _Voyager_ and Janeway in order to find the wormhole. And I realized that it would be wiser to step up my timing with regard to pulling it off, to engaging her in solving the puzzle for me. Which could work.

In fact…if I moved swiftly, decisively, I could even turn this entire near-disaster into an advantage, possibly…

Especially now that Janeway knew I had saved her, her ship and crew, from detention against one of my own. She could only be more inclined to believe me now when I showed up on her doorstep at some point in the near future and pretended to throw myself completely at her mercy…

"Prax," I growled aloud, settling on the decision and seeing his head snap up from his console in acknowledgment. "Have our decoy send another encrypted message to _Voyager_. Change the rendezvous coordinates again. New heading, 115 mark 4. And have our second fleet _discretely_ assemble in the nebula at sector 7…"

He was much subdued after the dressing down I'd given him an hour ago. And, as he began inputting the appropriate commands without question, I leaned back in my chair, satisfied.

Smiling as I, once more, manipulated the threads of countless lives around me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: See prologue

Chapter Eight

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

So we were safe. I should have been grateful. Satisfied, at the very least.

But I wasn't.

Kashyk's methods were what had every single nerve on edge. I could still see her face as she admitted to me…in a low voice…just _how_ Kashyk had convinced Juryk to leave. She actually colored explaining it, and I didn't blame her. I colored too, when she told me. Only my coloring wasn't anything to do with embarrassment, as I knew at least a portion of hers was.

"_He said__ WHAT?" I demanded. Feeling my blood pressure skyrocket at her quiet confession. _

_She mumbled a repeat of the sentiment, more into her coffee than to me, and I had to fight for control over my reaction. Had to swallow several times, blink several times, and take many slow, deep breaths to steady myself. Trying to process what the hell she'd just said to me. _

_Eventually, I was able to ask her quietly, even calmly, "Before I even touch this…is there any way I could be misinterpreting that statement?"_

_She lowered her cup, probably because she had to by that point. And met my eyes, the color high in her cheeks even as she held her head perfectly level. "No," she said simply. _

It still burned me. That was her reputation that Kashyk had willfully trashed in front of at least one other Imperial official, not to mention several of Kashyk's guards. And that on top of how the Devore felt about her being in charge in the first place.

I didn't give much of a damn that it had _worked._ That there wasn't a kernel of truthful basis to his explanation and damn well never would be. That wasn't anywhere near the point.

"_He told me later it was the only thing Juryk would have accepted." _

_The ball of apprehension coiled in my gut tightened. "Then the Devore do practice that…policy?" The word was bitter and alkaline on my tongue._

"_I don't think they do anymore," she was swift to correct. "Juryk seemed to think it odd that Kashyk would invoke it. It's not common, at least." She shrugged. As if she was shrugging the whole concept off, but I knew her better than that._

"_Kashyk's aware that it isn't even REMOTELY up for consideration?" I pressed._

"_I told him it was out of the question." She clearly wanted off the topic, not that I blamed her, but I also didn't possess the superhuman ability to just…ignore…what she'd just told me._

"_And he just…accepted that?" I pushed. Disbelieving that he would have. _

_Her eyes flashed then. Probably at my tone, which had admittedly gotten away from me, and she fixed me with a hard stare. Letting me know I was pushing too far. _

_In her opinion. _

"_I told you – he didn't seem genuinely interested. Based on our interaction when Juryk left, I'm inclined to accept his word at face value." My jaw dropped, and she tightened hers. "And you're overlooking the obvious point here, Chakotay…which is that it worked. What he said was able to get Juryk off the ship without further bloodshed."_

_I shook my head. Keeping a tight lid on my rising temper – which had little to do with her, I knew, and I didn't want to let it turn this into something uglier than it had to be. I dropped my eyes to my lap. Tugging absently at the length of my pants and pondering the best way to get through to her – any way – to get through to her on this. _

_Finally, I thought I had it. Lifted my gaze back up to hers. "If it was anyone else he'd said that about…Sam Wildman…B'Elanna…or even me…how would you be taking this right now?" I asked her quietly. "Would his assurance that he was acting for Juryk's benefit mean much of ANYTHING __to you right now if he'd said it about one of the crew? Instead of about you?" _

_I could see the question surprised her. She'd stopped opening her mouth and preparing to argue, was working her tongue over the inside of her cheek as she considered what I was saying. _

_And then she softened, her posture going slack against the back of her couch. "Probably not," she conceded ruefully. She rubbed at the back of her neck. "All right. I understand your concern. And I do…appreciate it." _

_I tried not to notice how she almost choked on the word "appreciate". _

"_So then…what do we do now?" I ventured. Not having a clue, personally, and hoping to hell she did. "Where does that leave us?"_

_She shook her head once. "Exactly where we were before. Kashyk made it clear we shouldn't expect any more…surprises. At least those that aren't coming from him." _

"_I wish I could say I found that the slightest bit reassuring, but I don't," I told her honestly. "And it doesn't answer the simple question all this has raised, which is…" she craned her neck around to meet my eyes, waiting… "Why? Why interfere at all? If what he said…" I still found the entire concept alarming, distasteful in the extreme –more than mildly – and had to swallow. "If what he said was all for Juryk's benefit…why did he intercede at all? Why intervene on OUR __behalf, and not Juryk's?"_

_She was quiet another few seconds. Musing. Pondering. Trying to figure him out. Then she turned fully to face me. "He wants something from us," she declared. Surety ringing in her face and tone. "And he wants it very badly, Chakotay."_

_I just stared at her. Ducking my head the slightest of sarcastic fractions and holding her gaze without blinking. _

_She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation, taking another sip of coffee and swallowing it before clarifying, "Something OTHER __than that. Something else entirely. Despite your…valid…concerns, I don't happen to share them. What he wants has nothing to do with anything he said to Juryk…or to us, for that matter. Whatever it is that he wants…it's nothing sexual. It's something bigger. Much, much bigger than that."_

I trust her implicitly. Trust her judgment, her instincts. If she thought there was something else Kashyk wanted, and it made sense if she was completely discounting the absurd explanation he'd given to Juryk, then there probably was. I took her word for it that he was after something besides her.

The only point we happened to strongly disagree on was the fact that wanting something _else_ from us didn't mean for a second that Kashyk's interest in her was purely platonic. I'd seen him lay eyes on her more than once now. And that look was something that resonated deep in some inner part of me…it wasn't acting. It just wasn't. And there was nothing anyone was going to say or do to convince me otherwise.

But the fact remained that he had interceded on our behalf. That there must be a reason for his intercession, and that it probably went deeper than just his wanting her. Because if that was _all_ he'd wanted…

Slime like Kashyk would already have tried to take it. He wouldn't have waited, in his mind had no _reason_ to wait. And when I had to admit the logic of that unpleasant little certainty to myself, I came to accept her suspicions even more fully. Even to let myself relax the tiniest fraction over it. She was definitely right in her assessment.

She was still as surprised as I was by Kashyk's intervention, even though she'd been the one in on the discussion between the two inspectors. She speculated the two had some connection, maybe a professional rivalry of some kind. That was the best reason for our timely rescue that she'd seen. That and the "something" Kashyk wanted – besides her.

"_He knows more than he should."_

"_What makes you say that?"_

"_I don't know, exactly. It's a few things he's said…no__–__" she shook her head, disagreeing with herself before I could ask what things those might have been, "it's more of a hunch at this point, really. I don't have anything concrete to back up my suspicions, but whenever I'm talking to him, I just get the feeling..."_

_My stomach was sinking. "Do you think he knows? About Kir, and the other telepaths?"_

"_No…" She shook her head for the hundredth time. "It's not that. At least I don't think it is." She locked gazes with me, and I could tell the thought was as disturbing to her as it was to me. "If he knew about the telepaths…he'd have taken them." A beat of silence. "Right?"_

"_I would think so," I had to admit. "But then…I'm not exactly an expert on the psychological machinations of the Devore, either."_

"_Neither of us is, unfortunately. And there would seem to have been a few things left out of the traveler's accounts we collected before entering this region," she added dryly. _

_But now that I thought back on it, there hadn't been. Not really. "Maybe not." She raised a brow in question, and I took a sip of the tea I'd been ignoring until now, noting that it had cooled while we'd been talking. It did little to moisten my throat as I pointed out, "If you'll remember, there was that trader that was muttering about…darker…rumors?"_

_She tensed, and I could see she did remember. We shared a hard look for a minute, as deep as any we had yet. _

What I'd been referring to was one of the many sources of intelligence on the Devore we'd gathered at the outskirts of their space before definitively deciding to risk entering it. None of our other sources had mentioned anything like the kind of dark warnings one trader had.

It had been on one of the last stations we'd visited, and Kathryn hadn't checked in on time. I'd traced her commbadge and beamed down to the station promenade, where I'd found her huddled up with a heavily robed local merchant in some low-lit, dive-looking bar. I took a few crucial seconds' study to make sure she wasn't in need of assistance but didn't approach her to interrupt. It was clear she'd found a good source; by the look of the empty glasses lined up on the table beside him, she'd been priming him for awhile already. She'd be pissed if I disrupted her efforts now – as I would be in reverse.

She'd had only a single, half-empty glass in front of her, but he hadn't seemed to notice. I'd casually taken a seat at the bar, where I could hear their conversation as the merchant continued telling her some of the tricks to getting cargo past the Devore inspectors he'd used successfully in the past. All of a sudden, a lone patron at a nearby table – one none of the three of us had really noticed – had exploded. The man's orange eyes had been bloodshot as he stumbled into the table, knocking Kathryn's drink to the floor as she rose to steady him. By the time I'd turned around, ready to step in if needed, she'd caught sight of me and frowned me back as the man drunkenly mumbled about filthy Devore smugglers and telepaths…mostly women…who never even made it to the detention camps. He rambled about it being the filthy secret of the Devore Imperial soldiers, what they liked to do for sport and how they entertained themselves with detainees…he'd gone on for long, loud minutes about it, actually, until Kathryn's contact had finally calmed him down and sent him on his way.

But his words had taken more than a few minutes to fade from my mind that day as we'd headed back to the ship. It had been hard to shake the drunken stranger from my thoughts that day. I knew races that operated like that. If even a fraction of what the man had said was true…

"_Him? The man that bumped into my table and spilled my drink?"_

_I nodded. She did remember. _

"_He was unstable," she argued. More out of habit, and stubbornness…out of the determination to remain optimistic about our predicament than anything else. "You said so yourself." She was right. I had…because that part of it hadn't been in question. "And my contact laughed him off as the station drunkard, if you'll recall. We BOTH dismissed most of what he'd said about the relocation centers…about the soldiers guarding them." _

_And we had. Only I wasn't too sure about having done that, now. And neither was she, from her tone of voice and the way she trailed off. Thinking, and looking less than perfectly at ease. _

"_But there were Kir's statements, too," I reminded us both now as they occurred to me, doing nothing for the slow, steady churning of my stomach inside of me. "There was what he said the first time he appeared on our viewscreen. What he said about__–__"  
_

"_I remember," she cut me off, a pained, dark grimace tinting her features. "You don't have to remind me." She wasn't finished yet. "All of that relates to their treatment of telepaths, though. And I assume those caught harboring them__…__"_

"_Which we are," I interjected pointedly._

"–_Which he doesn't KNOW__ we are," she was just as quick to clarify._

"_Which we don't THINK__ he knows we are," I finished firmly._

"_Your point?" She was getting annoyed now, going by her tone. Annoyed at my persistence with this when she already suspected she wouldn't like where it was going._

_It didn't make it any less necessary for me to continue. _

"_My point is that this is turning out to be a lot harder than we'd expected. We've had at least one close call today__–__"_

"_It turned out fine, Chakotay."_

"_For reasons we don't fully understand," I cautioned. "And we have over a month left of traveling through their space, if we keep to our approved course – which by the way we can't, if the transport vessel we're meeting keeps changing the rendezvous coordinates, like they did again this morning." She frowned, an acknowledgement of the seriousness of that situation, and I continued, "At this rate, who knows how long they're going to be aboard? And now this inspector__–__"_

"_Which one?" she quipped. Doing her best to try and shake me loose from the topic in any way she could, I noted._

"_Kashyk," I filled in evenly, because I wasn't letting her. I leaned forward, closer to her. "Look…I know you're not worried, but you've admitted you accept that I am – WHY __I am, and that isn't going to change anytime soon. Whether he does anything overt to give me further cause for concern or not. And if you're honest with yourself, you can't say with absolute certainty that you're going to be safe in here with him if he keeps insisting on pulling you in here by yourself__–__"_

"_We can never say for absolute certainty that ANY of us is safe," she countered stubbornly._

_I just held her gaze. Unimpressed with the latest attempt. "You know what I'm getting at, Kathryn."_

_She debated pretending ignorance, but when I didn't back down, didn't blink or so much as shift my position on the couch, a deep sigh escaped her. And she stood, began pacing a tight path back and forth in front of me, rubbing at her left shoulder where it meets her neck. "Why aren't we leaving?" She said it flatly. Spelling it out for me, and sparing me the trouble of going through the motions of dragging the answer out of her __–__ anymore than she'd made me already, that is. "That's what you're asking me."_

"_Yes." I kept my eyes locked on her. Needing to know why she'd decided not to. Needing to have known it about four hours ago, by that point. "Why aren't we setting course out of Devore Space, Kathryn? Given everything that's already happened here, especially today…how can you justify staying the course?"_

_She took a deep breath, as she paused right in front of me. Looking down on me, and looking exhausted. "Because he warned me not to," she finally admitted._

"_Who? Who warned you not to leave? Juryk?"_

"_Kashyk," she clarified, lifting her chin._

"_When?" I demanded, my blood running colder inside of me. _

"_Just before he left today."_

_Now it made sense. Much, much more sense. This wasn't just her being stubborn or overly optimistic about our chances of getting through Devore Space. _

"_He warned me that if we were to suddenly get cold feet about passing through their territory over what happened today, it wouldn't be taken well," she was finally letting me in on all that she knew._

"_What does that mean? Did he say we're not ALLOWED to leave?" _

"_Not in so many words, but he made his intent known, and that's the gist of it." She shook her head tightly. Clearly as pissed off as I was wary. "He said it would look…suspicious. Like we had something to hide," she all but spat. "He told me in no uncertain terms that trying to leave when we'd already come this far into their space would only attract attention to our presence. And he as much as promised me that if he didn't detain us and take apart the ship to make sure we weren't hiding anything…another fleet would. Like Juryk's, for instance." Her eyes burned into me at that last assertion. _

_Letting me know just how strongly Kashyk must have loaded that heavy bit of innuendo when he'd given her this last minute "warning"._

Everything had fallen into place for me then. Why she was insisting we push through this, despite the danger being far greater than we'd ever expected it to be. He'd threatened not only her ship and crew but he'd delivered a considerable blow to her sense of control.

"_I'm confident that I can get us out of here," she was already trying to convince me. And probably herself, too, I knew. "I truly believe that I can handle Kashyk, and that I can do it without incurring the kind of casualties we're going to take if we break course and try to backtrack to the border," she informed me. Because she could see the worry that had exploded past my guard at her revelation. _

I hadn't bothered to hide it.

"_And I trust your instincts, Kathryn. Implicitly," I promised. Watching her warm slightly at my soft assurance, and not wanting to continue and wipe that reassured expression off her tired face, yet needing to continue anyway. Knowing that if I didn't, I wasn't going to be living up to the requirements of my job. "But MY instincts are screaming at me that we're in way over our heads right now," I had to tell her plainly._

_She took it better than I expected. I have to admit. Instead of snapping, or closing up, she only sighed again. Deeply. Nodded slowly, as she digested the seriousness behind my concerns, read the level of my apprehension in my face. _

"_And I trust YOUR instincts, Chakotay," she afforded me quietly in return. She spread her hands. "So where does that leave us?" she repeated my question of earlier._

"_I don't know."_

I truly hadn't.

But there was something I had known.

"_We've been here before." I said it before she did._

_And she knew exactly what I was referring to. Her brows drew together in sadness. "God, Chakotay – I hope not," she replied seriously. "Because I don't want to fight with you. Not again. Not now. We've proven that doesn't work, and that our being on opposite ends of any decision is disastrous."_

_I had to nod reflectively, in complete agreement with her on that one. Shuddering faintly at the images and memories this conversation alone were invoking in me. _

"_I can DO this," she stressed. The determined glint in her eyes urging me to believe in her. To have faith in her. "And I'd much rather do it with your support than without it."_

"_You'll have my support, Kathryn," I dismissed immediately – almost shortly. Not completely sure whether that was a subtle dig or not to the last time we'd been in this level of disagreement over how to proceed through a part of space. "You know that. But what are you suggesting we do, then? How are we going to handle this and make sure we take every possible precaution against getting caught?"_

"_I think we should try to make sure we're taking both of our instincts into account…"_

She was still trying to convince me. But the decision had already been made, really. At least on my part.

I couldn't justify not supporting her decision this time. Even if I, personally, still wanted to take our chances at making a run for it now. Before we got deeper into their space and even further under Kashyk's control.

"_I need you, Chakotay," she was still trying to persuade me. "I need you, and most especially your unique perspective if I'm going to have a chance of pulling this off."_

_At least she wasn't threatening to do it without me __–__ overtly. It was something. A concession on her part that she didn't technically have to give. I softened. "I'm with you, Kathryn," I assured her solemnly. "Whatever we decide to do…we'll do this together."_

I learn from my mistakes – eventually. I know now what I hadn't stopped to see, to remember clearly the last time. The fact was that she was no more immune to apprehension, to fear or doubt than the rest of us were. It's something I ought to have remembered the first time from being in command myself, but something harder to remember than it seemed on the surface because of how well she happened to hide her insecurities from the rest of us. From even me.

She needed reassurance. As much as she would pretend not to, would deny that she needed it to all eternity and back if I outright asked her if she needed it…

She needed to know she was believed in.

"_We got through Borg Space," I declared grimly. Meeting her wary eyes. "And we'll get through Devore Space, too. I know you'll get us through," I promised. _

It had been better this time around. Maybe we were both learning from our mistakes. I hoped so. At any rate, she agreed with me that we should ask Kir what he knew of the "policy" Kashyk had so casually spoken of. To see if he'd heard of it, or whether he could tell us anything about whether or not Kashyk might actually try to invoke it. Mostly to shut me up, but some days, I take what I can get.

And she'd allowed me to pull Harry into helping us modify Theta Four. It was now set up not only to lock onto Devore life signs on the bridge and in engineering or near any tactical positions when invoked, but also extended to her ready room. And, because I didn't exactly feel better afterward, we extended it to the conference room, too. On the off chance that Kashyk decided to be unpredictable and wanted a change of scenery and decided to call her in there instead.

It made me feel only mildly better. The real concern I had afterward about its ability to act as a safeguard, namely for her, was…

"_Now. Will you actually use it, if you have to? Not just if the ship is in danger," I modified, cutting ahead of the argument I anticipated, "but if YOU__ are and we can't get to you?" _

_She didn't look at me, pretended to be too busy reading Seven's report on the astrological phenomena that might give her an excuse to make the course change we were about to make – or enable us to hide the fact that we'd made one at all. But I did notice the way she'd stopped thumbing through it, letting me know that she'd heard me. _

_I gave her a few seconds. Taking in the faint music playing overhead in her dimly-lit quarters before pushing, "Kathryn?"_

_She rolled her eyes up to mine. Barely tolerating my continued presence in her living room._

"_I'm serious," I pressed. "I need to hear you tell me you're going to USE__that command if you have to."_

"_I already told you I don't think it will be necessary," she reminded me with exceedingly forced patience radiating in the air all around her._

"_But if it is?" I ignored her exasperated body language completely. "You'll use it?"_

"_If I judge that it's absolutely necessary, yes," she gritted out slowly, for my benefit. I held her eyes, reading them for a hint of the something she wasn't saying, and she knew what I was doing. Sighed, and leaned forward. "I'm not going to use it at the drop of a hat, Chakotay. That's what I left out of my previous statement."_

"_No one's asking you to. But neither am I going to accept you putting yourself in harm's way unnecessarily." _

"_Yes, yes," she muttered. She waved me away, making to return to her reading, but I spoke up, dragging her gaze right back to me. _

"_I mean it, Kathryn. Not even for the ship." Her eyes flashed a mild challenge, but I didn't back down. "No one on this ship wants you to make that kind of sacrifice for our benefit–"_

"_And I don't run this ship by democracy, Chakotay – which you know," she bit out mildly, cutting me off. It was no less warningly for the apparent lack of bite in her words._

_She was reaching her limit. Reminding me that she had them, and that I'd been steadily pushing at them._

"_You'll use it if you have to?" I repeated. Calmly, and exactly as I had before. "Before you get into any trouble – not five minutes, ten minutes after. But the minute any real trouble develops?"_

_She tried to stare me down again. One eyebrow rising to match her increasingly exasperated expression. And gave up. Finally. _

"_Yes," she grated, enunciating in clipped and precise fashion. "I will use that command if I have to – BEFORE anything __serious happens."_

_I relaxed. She wouldn't lie to me. Not outright. _

"_Thank you," I told her sincerely. "That was all I needed to know."_

_She barely grunted an acknowledgment, and it was my dismissal…the second one I'd received since entering her quarters to inform her that Harry and I were finished making the late-night upgrades, but this discharge was one I was willing to acknowledge. I made it all the way to the doors, and they opened–_

"_Chakotay."_

_I turned back to see her crossing to the replicator for a refill of her cup, not looking at me. "What?" _

"_I just want it on record that I still think you're wrong. I'm not going to need it," she told me firmly. _

_I watched her reach the replicator, placing her cup on the platform. And afforded her a nod she didn't see while studiously not looking back at me. _

"_Noted," I acknowledged. "But let's just say…I feel better knowing it's there." _

"_That's why I let you add it. Coffee. Black," was the last thing I heard, and then I stepped out as the doors closed behind me._

I found it comforting. That she was going to listen to me, that was. And I don't want to say the reason I was apprehensive about getting her agreement was that she can be spiteful, because I don't think that's quite accurate…or fair…to say. But that she has a memory like an elephant is more like it. And she remembered the occurrences of a few months ago, which had put that wrench deep into our friendship and might have had something to do with the resistance she was obviously fighting past with regard to my suggestions.

The second wrench, that was. I could only hope that we were learning. Still learning, and weren't doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. _Voyager's _safety, the success of this mission, depended on it.

She'd made it clear to everyone that our mission was to get the Brenari safely to that transport vessel. And to get ourselves safely across Devore Space. And I'd been steadily working with the crew, making sure they knew her orders, which she was reluctant to give over official comm. channels. Particularly the ones regarding secrecy.

Obviously.

I'd been meeting discreetly with all department heads, traveling to each of them on foot rather than summoning them to my office, or to the bridge for a briefing. And I'm made it clear that it was up to each of them to get the message disseminated through the ranks of everyone reporting under them…as discreetly as possible.

Tuvok was a little difficult to track down, although he _should_ have been. We'd done that on purpose. On entering this part of space, we'd gone so far as to move Rollins into Tuvok's quarters for the duration of the journey through Devore territory. Rollins was the one listed as having succeeded Tuvok in the ships' records, after all, and Kathryn hadn't wanted a single electron out of place in that regard. A senior officer, which Rollins had become by taking chief of security in the computer's eyes, wouldn't be sleeping in regular officer's quarters when the rest of the senior officers weren't.

It also wouldn't make sense for there to appear to be extra quarters in use than there were listed crewmembers aboard the ship, so we'd spread out some of the double-bunking junior officers to fill the gaps. In the meantime, Vorik, Jurot, and Tuvok were all sleeping on mats in Cargo Bay Two, which could be rolled up in the morning and placed in storage containers…along with the rest of their personal belongings, which had to be collected and relocated as if they really were dead. I felt bad for them. Living in the cargo bay together afforded them virtually no privacy, but we'd agreed that keeping them together (and close to the transporter room) was wisest. And whatever they thought about Seven's company, they weren't complaining about it, and neither was she.

But it had been too early to have found him sleeping, especially with all the heightened security precautions Kathryn had ordered invoked after the earlier disaster with Juryk and Kashyk on the bridge, and since, as far as the computer was concerned, Tuvok was dead, I couldn't exactly locate him by checking that way.

It took a little old-fashioned detective work, a lot of walking, and comparing last-known sightings with Tom, Seven, Neelix, Harry _and_ the doctor before I found him.

With B'Elanna, actually, and he was in the middle of a heated debate with her, which I found more than odd for Tuvok being one of the participants, but as soon as I strolled up to where B'Elanna appeared to have him pinned in the corner by the EPS relay stations, I understood what it was all about.

"I told you," she growled, looking and sounding like her usual, irate self, "your teams have been in here twice already – and they haven't found anything!"

"All the more reason, Lieutenant, for another sweep of the area."

At his impassive, non-bending response, B'Elanna snarled, losing whatever was left of her patience. Took a step forward, bringing herself well within the tall Vulcan's personal space, her fists clenched at her sides in that way of hers I usually find endearing.

Usually.

"Well, you can take your _sweep_ and–"

"Is there a problem here?" I interjected strategically, keeping my tone perfectly mild as my hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She started under the weight of my hand, shaking it off abruptly, not having seen me enter, but immediately upon processing that I was here, she growled, "You're damned right there's a problem!"

Tuvok nodded his head in that particularly Vulcan-esque way of his and replied coolly, "I have just been informed that Lieutenant Torres has refused to allow my security team to work in Engineering this evening." I followed his gaze to the team of two that stood waiting just inside the doors, their attention glued to the argument between the two senior offices and repressed a groan.

Great. The absolute _last_ thing I needed right now – more drama. And this not even coming from the Devore but from within our own ranks.

"Lieutenant?" I prompted, fixing B'Elanna with a stare she would know better than to shrug off.

In most circumstances.

She scoffed, not picking up on it – or just not caring. "What he's _not_ telling you, Chakotay, is that they've been crawling all over my engines, getting in the way of my teams since _this morning_! With those priority upgrades the captain wants to the warp core emissions, we've got our hands full enough down here without tripping over one of _his_ people every time we turn around!"

People were openly staring from all over the room. I even caught one person leaning over the railing from the upper deck to get a better view, and then I admit it. I lost it, just as Tuvok was mounting his stoic – if offense-tinged – defense.

"The captain has explicitly sanctioned our–"

"Tuvok," I broke in smoothly, interrupting what obviously had the makings of a long, spectator-filled argument, "would you excuse us for a moment?" I hooked a firm hand around B'Elanna's slim, powerful bicep and ushered her all the way out into the corridor with me, completely ignoring the stares of everyone in Engineering as I rushed her out.

"What the hell's gotten into _you_?" she growled the second we were outside, yanking her arm free in anger. "What was _that_ all about?"

I spun on my heel to face her. "Chalk it up to a pronounced lack of patience," I suggested stonily. "I thought we were making progress with this. It's been one hell of a lousy day already, Torres. I don't need you and your Klingon temper making things worse than they already are!"

She scoffed at me disbelievingly, feigning shock as she pointed back to the doors we'd just come out of. "You thought that was my temper causing trouble in there?" She laughed incredulously, not backing down in the slightest but pushing forward, closer to me as she struck back. "Oh, that wasn't temper, Chakotay. But if you want to talk about _tempers_, why don't we start with how I managed to hold mine down here while those Devore sons of targs were tearing my engines apart right in front of me, while the three of you couldn't even manage to stand in a straight line up there without getting into a fight?"

I brought myself up short, clamping down on the heated retort I'd had building and ready to throw right back at her – damn her.

Because she was absolutely right.

Not about the situation, or the circumstances that had led up to the incident. But about the fact that, after everything she'd been through in the past few months…a little understanding from me about the difficulty she must have faced keeping herself in check during the Spirit-forsaken inspections of those arrogant Devore soldiers…wasn't going to kill me. Neither was a little appreciation of how well she'd handled herself down here, either.

I leaned on one arm against the wall, dragging my other hand through my hair as I took in her point. And nodded slowly. "You're right," I admitted, deflating. "I'm sorry. Those inspections can't have been much easier on anyone down here, but you kept your cool."

"It wasn't easy, Chakotay!" she retorted dubiously. Not trusting my praise because she never really has been able to take a compliment well. Her fists balled again in frustration, a glower blossoming as she thought back to the inspection. "You have _no_ idea what those pigs were like," she spat. Clearly still furious. "Tearing off paneling, ripping coils out just to scan inside of them. Making their comments about humans and what kind of 'creatures' we are. They were doing _everything_ they could to try to get a rise out of us–"

"I know," I lamented.

"But I had _people_ to worry about down here, and I didn't have the luxury of acting out the way I was burning to," she finished. Just starting to lose steam, finally, as it sunk in that I wasn't after her anymore.

"_I know_," I stressed softly, finally catching her attention with my tone. "And I'm telling you that you did good, B'Elanna. Thank you."

She'd stopped pacing by now, and arranged herself in front of me. Blowing the hair out of her eyes as she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. "All right, then," she acknowledged, somewhat awkwardly. She looked around the corridor, furtively, as usual embarrassed by her display of emotion, but she had it together again by that point. And her gaze landed on me. A gaze growing in intensity the longer she scrutinized me. She cocked an eyebrow in challenge. "So what the hell was that all about up there? Why couldn't the bridge crew keep themselves in check?"

"Tom didn't tell you?" I grimaced. Unwilling to sit through another lecture on our behavior, particularly after the doctor had already let us have it…

"We haven't had the chance to talk yet. We're all working our tails off with the modifications the captain keeps ordering to – just about every system on this ship." Her eyes flickered inadvertently to my hand, and narrowed. "Is that a souvenir? Why didn't you get it fixed?"

What? Oh. Damn. I pulled it up into the light, watching my sleeve pull back and reveal the further extent of the deep bruising around where the torn skin and lacerated bone had previously been, and realized. "There were a few injuries. I had the worst of mine fixed, but promised the doctor I'd come back later for the residual bruises."

"What _happened, _Chakotay?" she demanded. "I heard you and Tom both had bloody noses, that the captain was practically knocked out and Rollins had to be carried down to Sickbay!"

"Who told you that?"

"Freddy Bristow heard from Myers, who heard from Callahan," she reported succinctly.

I rolled my eyes. "Most of that is exaggeration, B'Elanna. Surprise of surprises."

Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg. "How _much_ of it was exaggeration?"

She wasn't buying it.

I sighed. "For starters, we all _walked_ to Sickbay with no problem. And I didn't have a bloody nose – Tom did. He's fine," I hastened to add, before I could start worrying her, but she only nodded.

"I know. He at least had the sense to comm. me afterward to let me know he was all right."

_Lucky for him_, I thought, wincing in retrospect. _I can only imagine what kind of shreds she'd have made of his insides for him if he hadn't had the sense to do that much_.

A worried B'Elanna is about ten times more dangerous than an angry one.

"So what _did_ you have?" she demanded again.

"Just…a minor stab wound to the hand," I gestured with the hand in question, "and a few scrapes and bruises from the scuffle."

"_Stab wound_?" She reached out, grabbed my bruised hand and held it up, turning it what she didn't realize was pretty painfully back and forth under the light. "That bruising is from a _stab wound_? What the hell was going on up there?"

I took my hand back. "It wasn't just an arbitrary loss of temper, B'Elanna. It was serious. The new inspector was…" I frowned. Not knowing how to say it without giving away more than I wanted to for the sake of keeping the rumors to a minimum. "What did you hear about how it started?"

It was the wrong question, I could tell. She'd just been waiting for me to ask it, and pounced. "Actually I heard…that after all her orders and harping on everyone keeping their cool…that the _captain_ started it!"

There was a triumphant light in her eyes now. A light that wasn't entirely benevolent, and one I didn't like at all. My insides tensed, and my posture went rigid. She needed to get over this. And I was trying to be patient with her, to be a sympathetic friend, but I have my limits and she was pushing them by still holding that grudge against Kathryn for allowing that Cardassian hologram to save her life.

"It's true, isn't it?" She huffed out a darkly amused breath, pulling me from my thoughts. "I don't believe it. After all that warning and posturing, _she's_ the one who couldn't keep control of her–"

"That's _enough_, B'Elanna," I warned.

Her eyes flashed, but she lapsed back into silence. Even if it was an accusing silence.

"There was good reason," I explained tersely. "Believe me. All she did was to knock his hand away."

"Whose hand?" she demanded immediately. "Away from what?"

"B'Elanna," I growled. Back to my original starting point with regard to patience already. "Enough. Suffice it to say that what happened on the bridge wasn't something _you'd_ have put up with if it had happened to you down here."

And I hated the shudders of apprehension that roiled through my entire body at the thought of how easily that could have been the case. How easily the violence that had developed on the bridge during both inspections could have occurred somewhere else on the ship entirely, and could have gone even more wrong without me having a single opportunity to help… Because at least on the bridge, I'd been able to be in the middle of it and keep a close eye on things. But what was I going to do about it the next time if violence erupted somewhere else? If someone else had to defend him or herself from the Devore? Would the outcome be as good? Or would it end in disaster, the way I can only picture it would have if it was B'Elanna or anyone else….

She folded her arms. Decidedly unconvinced, and snapping me out of my uneasy musings again. "So. It was worth getting the rest of you into an outmatched brawl in which you could just as easily have been killed over?"

"We entered that fight of our own volition. _Drop it_," I warned hotly.

"Whatever." She held up her hands in supplication, sensing that she was pushing me too far. Finally. "Fine. You're going to defend her, I can see that. What else is new?" she grumbled the last not-quite-under-her-breath. At the look I gave her then, she opted quickly for a change in subject. Wisely. "So what stopped them from killing you? Was it really the first inspector? Did he really save us, like I heard?"

_Unfortunately_. I nodded. "Looks that way."

"I've heard a few things about him, too," she muttered. In a way that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end again.

"_What_ things?"

"Like that he looks at the captain like she's the only one in the room." She was giving me a sly, scrutinizing kind of once-over as she spoke. "That he pulled her into her ready room by herself twice now." My stomach started to clench up, my blood pressure spiking. "And that no one knows what happened between them for hours while she was in there with him–"

"_B'Elanna_," I snapped, very close to losing it with her snide tone, but she held up her hands again.

"Easy, old man," she drawled. "I'm not trying to start a fight, here. It's just what I heard."

"Well you'd better tell me now that whoever you heard that _from_ got a dressing down from _you_ the second you heard anything like it," I growled in anger that was only steadily rising. At her and at whoever felt it was his or her duty to spread gossip like _that_.

I love this crew; I do. We're family. But sometimes, family can be a pain in the ass to live with. Especially when _probably_ well-meaning gossip gets as out of control as it does on this ship.

"Of course she did," B'Elanna confirmed, sounding indignant. "She knows if I hear anything like that kind of speculative gossip again, she'll be in sickbay, telling it to the doctor instead." She stepped forward. "But is it true, about the inspector? What's his name – Kashyk?"

"Is what true?" I was only barely placated by her handling of the rumor-starter I knew she wouldn't name. By her code, she'd handled it, considered it taken care of. And it probably was…as far as I know, there are only a handful of people on this ship willing to go toe to toe with an angry B'Elanna…and none of the junior officers are among them. But her attitude with me, on the other hand…

"Is it true that he stepped in for us?" she pressed. "That he's the one who kept the other inspector from killing you all?"

I didn't want to admit it. On principle, it galled me to have to confess.

But it was the truth. Unfortunately. I nodded reluctantly. "He did, yes."

Her jaw dropped, but she caught herself. Folding her arms again, and going quiet for a blessed few seconds during which I closed my eyes to let them rest for a minute.

"The way I heard it," she ventured slowly, "he showed up right in the middle of everything. I heard there had already been shots fired, and that there was a near-miss with Rollins' head, but the first inspector still stopped it. That he stood with us – against one of his own kind."

I nodded, opening my eyes to slant a glance at her. Not entirely surprised that she was able to put two and two together with the little information she'd gathered about the happenings on the bridge.

She's a bright girl, even under the worst of circumstances.

Especially under the worst of circumstances. I tried to remember that, even in the face of the careful, deliberate series of deductions she was making now. And also reminded myself, repeatedly, that B'Elanna isn't normally like this. That the sense of betrayal she'd felt when Kathryn had used that hologram against her explicit wishes not to had cut her deep. Probably deeper than anyone or thing since we've been out here in this quadrant.

_She's hurt_, I forced myself to remember. _She'll come around sooner or later and understand why Kathryn had to do it._

"Then it had to be the captain who was able to talk him out of taking the other inspector's side."

I regarded her warily. Shifting in place.

It _really_ needed to be sooner rather than later.

"You don't know that, B'Elanna," was all I allowed.

"Really?" She scoffed. "Look, I may be no expert on the Devore, but even I can tell you they're not inclined to take the side of 'filthy _gaharay' _over other Devore."

I leveled a strong look at her. "Maybe they just didn't like each other."

"And I don't like Seven, but I can tell you if one of them tried to hurt her in any way…even if she provoked it…whose side I'd be taking in any fight."

"What are you getting at, B'Elanna?" I asked, though I knew far better than to ask.

"I just want to know what she said to him to make him come out of it on our side."

"She didn't say anything. As far as I know, it was the inspector's choice to intervene on our behalf."

"Then what was his price for that intervention, Chakotay? And don't try to tell me he didn't have one."

"That's it." I'd had it. Completely. Felt my face flushing in anger, because she'd just happened to hit far too close to home for my taste and definitely for my ability to keep a reign on my temper. "This conversation is over," I snapped. "Tuvok's doing the security sweeps because those are the captain's orders. And if I hear _anything_ from him regarding you giving him a hard time, I'm going to–"

"Chakotay. _Calm down_," she growled. "Look, I'm not…that's not what I meant! I swear!"

I raised a stony brow, and she spluttered, backtracking, "At least…that's not _how_ I meant it, okay?" Her eyes darted around the corridor, again making sure no one was within earshot, but she still leaned into me as a precaution, her voice going low. "I just meant that you should make sure she isn't…"

My eyes flashed, and she actually winced…at little.

"Just…make sure she's not doing anything…too…_Janeway-esque_." And then she looked at me, her eyebrows going up in a way that meant I was supposed to know what the hell she meant.

I waited. My whole body stiff as a stone statue by now.

She spat out a breath. "Make sure she doesn't get _hurt_ doing…whatever it is that she's doing up there. All right? I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

I waited a full minute. My jaw working back and forth as I tried to contain myself. Forced myself to process that she was actually displaying concern for the captain's wellbeing, however adeptly she'd been managing to disguise it. Recognized it as a step in the right direction, despite B'Elanna' stubborn ability to hold a grudge. And nodded curtly. Acknowledging the sentiment. Even appreciating it on a distant level through my exhaustion and the supreme tension we'd all been living under since entering Devore Space.

"All right," I allowed gruffly. "Message received."

She took a step back. Hardening and resuming her shield of unaffected indifference. "Tell the captain that we're going to be slightly behind schedule on those upgrades, but I'll do the best I can to minimize the discrepancy. If you'll excuse me…I've got security sweeps to work around."

She actually afforded me the respect of waiting for me to make the token gesture of dismissal before stalking away from me, and it was something.

I nodded. Standing in the corridor for a full minute after watching her walk back into Engineering, scrubbing my hands over my face and fighting the exhausting creeping strongly over me. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who'd noticed the inspector's interest in Kathryn. Obviously, it wasn't just me, and couldn't be attributed to an overprotective first officer and friend's instincts.

And that fact did absolutely nothing to reassure me, only had more tension roiling through my gut at the thought of it. I wandered back to my office in a daze of reflection, worry nipping at my heels with every fleeting step.

And only realized when I got back to my office that I'd forgotten that I'd gone down to Engineering in the first place to speak to _Tuvok_. I'd gotten distracted by B'Elanna's attitude, and forgotten all about him. By now he was probably gone, and it would likely take another hour to find him again.

With a deep sigh, I hefted myself out of the chair I'd just let myself settle into, kicking myself mentally. If this was the kind of "effective leadership" I was going to be offering up to ship today, I was going to have to stop by the messhall and see if Kathryn had left any coffee for the rest of us this morning.

I apparently could use all the help I could get.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

I reclined against my couch, legs casually crossed and one arm strewn lazily out against the headrest, presenting a picture of boredom and ease. The inspector droned on in front of me, still on the usual cultural inquiries, and my mind wandered in and out. Sometimes wondering how the crew was faring out there without me, how far the inspection teams were pushing their abuse of my ship, and alternately tuning into his slithering speech whenever a particular phrase jumped out at me, and I knew I was expected to reply.

We'd had to make course alterations again. To reach the transport vessel, we hadn't had a choice. There was really no way to hide that fact from the Devore, either. They were far too thorough in their inspection of our navigational and sensor logs, and I knew from the inspector's previous reactions what that would mean for me in here once Prax finished his inspection.

I'd broken protocol again, after all.

I thought I'd found a half decent excuse, deliberately taking the closest path toward several ion storms that we could claim to have been navigating around, but that would mean little to him, as he'd demonstrated before: protocol _must_ be adhered to.

I fought the disgusted crinkling of my nose as he continued prattling.

It hadn't done much good when I'd rounded on him after Juryk's departure and scathingly pointed out that there was absolutely no mention of corporal punishment in Devore law – and that was what those hideous chemicals of his amounted to. We'd at least been presented with a full copy of Devore penal code after the first inspection, and I'd studied it at length.

Kashyk had simply smiled infuriatingly, inquired whether I'd have preferred the written alternative: the seizure of my ship and imprisonment of my crew. He'd known the answer to that, even if I hoped the scathing look I leveled at him answered the question of what I thought of him, rather than the question he'd rhetorically asked. If I'd known at the outset of entering their space that I had the choice of several additional years subtracted from this crew's journey and getting twelve innocent, persecuted individuals to safety…in exchange for enduring even that hellish pain, possibly every day for the two months that we would be in Devore Space, I'd have chosen the pain every time. I'd take it now for altering course again, if I had to – that's my job.

Loosely translated. Give or take a few descriptives.

That didn't mean I wasn't going to fight back, anyway.

I was prepared for it this time. That second chemical had remained in my system for much longer, and I'd had the doctor working to develop a counteragent to the newer compound, at least. It had taken him days, in which being sworn to secrecy did little to improve his surly mood, but he'd come through, which was all I really cared about. The counteragent was untested, but I'd had him inject me against his vehement protest, anyway. We'd see if the doctor was the genius he thought himself soon enough.

Even if it didn't work, the substance the inspector had given me was nowhere near as bad as that first one. There had been pain involved, yes. Short, sharp jolts through my body that had felt like shocks…as if someone was applying some kind of energy weapon in quantifiable jolts…decidedly unpleasant, but nothing like that psychedelic, nerve-liquefying torture I'd endured the first time. The agony that had had me losing consciousness altogether, that still had me waking in sweat-soaked, nightmarish fevers…

"–Violence and beauty, science and faith…all somehow mingled harmoniously. Like the counterpoint of this music. Mahler." My ears perked up again at his tone as he continued pointing to the ceiling, the audio channels from which the music came. "Symphony Number One, am I correct?"

I'd no idea. Sounded about right, but I certainly hadn't been listening to the damned _music_. Not since the first few seconds of hearing it while I'd been standing on the bridge and realized what was playing over the comm. system. Realized _who_ it was that had ordered it to play.

"You're getting to know my musical database better than I do," I replied listlessly.

"I've had time to review it since our last encounter."

"Tell me, are all of your inspections this personal?" It didn't matter. What I really wanted to know, I couldn't ask, of course. Had the inspection teams reached Engineering? The transporter rooms? Would they buy our story about the malfunctions again?

Kashyk's strident, occasionally braying voice kept tugging at my attention. Requiring precise answers in calculated tones. Draining me of energy, really. Little more…

His tone snatched at my attention again – no. Not his tone. It was the cadence of his speech that alerted me this time.

"…no reason for us to be adversaries. I could be your _friend_. And right now, you could certainly use one."

"Really, why is that?" I inquired dutifully, my eyebrows rising in the required feigned confusion at his loaded comment, yet I was on full alert for the first time, every muscle tensed. Just too practiced to _show_ it.

Was this it? Was he finally ready to admit what my gut had been screaming since the last inspection, which was that he knew far more than he pretended to?

What in the hell did he _really_ want? Friendship was a laughable notion…

"We don't exactly embrace outsiders," he sneered pointedly, drawing me back into him once more.

"_Gaharay_?" I supplied dutifully, my eyes rolling heavenward.

"It means 'strangers'," he informed, with far too much enthusiasm behind the obvious lie.

_It means a hell of a lot MORE __than that, or the Universal Translator would simply translate it_, I bit back on retorting.

It did, I knew. It was a derogatory term, more of a curse than anything. But it wasn't simply the word "stranger", as he would have had me believe.

"Which brings me to a matter," and this time, he had my full attention with that subtle edge of victory creeping into his smug voice, "that could threaten _our_ friendship. I've examined your crew manifest from our last inspection."

Damn, but we'd hoped he wouldn't…

Faint icicles of wariness shot up and down my spine, and instinct was to tense for all I was worth. But he was watching for that, I knew, was watching for any sign I might unwittingly give him. I kept still.

"Commander Tuvok, Ensign Vorik. Vulcans. Ensigns Suder and Jurot. Betazoids. All telepaths." He looked to me for reaction. When I gave none, he furthered, "And yet, for some reason, you neglected to mention them."

"For a very simple reason," I lied stone-facedly. "They're dead. Tuvok, Vorik, and Jurot died in a shuttle crash about two months ago. Suder was killed in a conflict with a species called the Kazon."

"That's fortunate…" He'd already made it clear what an unfeeling bastard he was in most every respect, so I was surprised at myself when the urge to spit in his face overwhelmed me at his response. "For you, I mean."

Another of those lead weights dropped into my gut. _Suspiciously fortunate_, he bit back on saying outright. The words hung in the electrically charged air between us, anyway. Heavy as tritanium.

"If I'd known you were harboring telepaths, I would have had to arrest you for breaking our cardinal protocol." And his expression, his amused tone laced with that hint of danger said it all_. _

_He knew._ I don't know how he knew, but everything about his affect screamed that he did. The blood rushed to my head as I sat there, fighting with my expression to give away nothing as I studied him intently. He was waiting for something. Anything, anything at all he could use to further this line of inquiry.

_No, he can't __KNOW_, I decided, forcing my pulse to slow its rapid escalation. _He suspects. You would, too. It doesn't mean anything. If he really KNEW, you wouldn't be sitting here…_

I didn't think I would be.

I responded with every ounce of the anger I'd have felt towards him if I were telling the truth…if he'd just really called the deaths of four of my dead crewmembers fortunate.

"They were valued members of my crew, Inspector," I spat back with unfeigned contempt, "not criminals."

"Perhaps." He remained decidedly unconvinced, but I'd side-stepped his pressing into the suspicious "fortune" of having had no telepaths aboard by the time we reached the Imperium. He would get no more than that from me on the subject, and he seemed to sense it.

My mind once again wandered to beyond the doors…with much more anxiety behind my thoughts this time.

"Captain…do you trust me?" he broke in suddenly.

"Not for a second." I didn't even pause before answering him – had he given me one _single_ reason that I should?

"Exactly!" Perversely, my answer seemed to please him. "And why should you? Trust has to be earned." And it would be a cold day in hell before I trusted Inspector Kashyk, I hoped he understood by my expression. He only smiled that smarmy smile that got under my skin in more ways than one, expanding, "It's gradual. And yet it's the foundation of every relationship, professional and personal. It's also a concept alien to the telepathic races. Why take someone at their word when you can simply…read their mind?"

Even if Kir hadn't given me the real back story behind the Devore hatred for telepaths, I wouldn't have swallowed his pathetic, specious excuse for his peoples' genocidal behavior in a million years. And it was on the tip of my tongue to ask just what it was his people felt such a need to hide from outsiders when the doors opened to my second least favorite person in the galaxy – well, Juryk had supplanted him several days ago, I corrected myself swiftly.

Third least favorite.

"We've completed our inspection. There are no telepaths aboard. However, their sensor logs indicate they deviated from their assigned course on two occasions–"

"In both cases, to avoid ion storms," I supplied, taking Prax's entrance as my cue to rise and making the effort but knowing what the results would be even as I spoke.

He barely afforded me a supercilious smirk before turning back to Kashyk. "Imperative thirty two," he pronounced smugly, "codicil six twenty six…"

Imperative thirty two already made me nauseous at the mere mention of it…especially when it was recited in Prax's onerous voice…and codicil six twenty six was probably going to end up in my having some sort of stroke, I decided then.

"…All gaharay vehicles that deviate from prescribed flight vectors will be impounded," Prax continued his recitation, "their crews detained and relocated."

"Prax," the inspector drawled even as I tensed for my response, "it's clear the captain didn't intend to break protocol. I expect we can…overlook…these infractions?"

All right, I admit it. My jaw dropped, practically hitting the floor.

"Sir?" Prax growled in disbelief.

Stunned, I looked to Kashyk with just as much amazement as Prax did, wanting to know what the cost of his second intervention on my behalf was going to be before believing for an instant he meant what he'd said at face value. There _had_ to be some sordid catch waiting on the tip of his silken, slimy tongue…

But Kashyk was serious! He took barely a second to smile that wolfish smile at me before shooting a scathing, furious look to his subordinate. Prax visibly backed down, and if the silver-haired man was acting for my benefit, it was time to get out of the business completely, because I'd have bet the ship it was no act the way he trembled under his inspector's glower.

The lieutenant's subsequent "Yes, sir," was disgruntled but properly chagrined. Perfectly so.

It looked like the doctor would have to wait to have his miracle drug tested after all – possibly indefinitely. And I wasn't complaining. I had no intention of looking a gift Devore in the mouth and moved to step toward the bridge before any more time could be wasted in here with those fifteen people waiting in transporter suspension. Anxious to have the Devore the hell off my ship before they could infect it with their loathsome presence one iota more than they already–

"Captain." Kashyk physically moved to block me, very nearly brushing against me, and I stopped short before he could, but it still brought our faces to within centimeters of each other.

It was a damned shame he was such an insufferable, arrogant and genocidal bastard, I permitted myself three seconds' worth of time to note. He was unfortunately, undeniably handsome.

Until he opened that cocky mouth of his, and promptly ruined it all, that was.

"I'm a reasonable man," he claimed, "and you've been cooperative, but…consider this a reminder." I had far too close a view of the discomfiting, appraising look he shot me as he glanced down over me and coaxed, "You have a long trip through Devore space. And good friends…can be an asset?"

I stared at him. The "friendship" line again. And the way he kept looking at me like that, I was genuinely beginning to wonder if I should be worried about his definition of the word – well…that was a lie. I _knew_ I should be, by now.

I returned his broad, fake smile, matching its sincerity ounce for disingenuous ounce.

"I'll keep it in mind," I lied.

There were no more comments from him at my noncommittal reply, and he motioned his team out, seeming satisfied that he'd accomplished his goal here. Whatever that goal really was. I watched the doors seal shut behind them and indulged in the longest sigh of disgusted relief I could recall making in a long while. Wanting to believe that Kashyk was finally being brought to heel from that initial visit…and knowing better all the while.

Whatever it was he really wanted, he was getting closer and closer to revealing it. I sensed it, and it was unnerving as hell. The increasingly shrewd interrogations he was subjecting me to were indication enough of that, and, despite my relative confidence in Kir's assessment of Devore surveillance tactics until now, I decided it was time to seriously step up security measures aboard ship. They _had_ to have some sort of intelligence, and since I knew it wasn't coming from my own people, or from Kir's…I shook my head. Gritting my teeth.

They were most _definitely_ listening to us. _Must_ have implanted surveillance devices somewhere on the ship. It was the only thing that made sense, and the fact that we hadn't found them, despite our search, only meant that we hadn't been looking hard enough.

It was time to step up our security measures. Put Tuvok's teams on double time figuring it out.

And time for Chakotay, Tuvok and I to take a walk. We could no longer trust having certain conversations in expected places. I managed a small smile.

It had been a long while since I'd taken a stroll down to Deck 15.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Nine

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

The third inspection had gone well, I thought. At least in comparison to the first two. We'd barely managed to begin serious security sweeps for the surveillance devices Kathryn was convinced were planted somewhere on the ship when another Devore vessel popped up on sensors. This one tiny. Kathryn had just broken away from her desk, where she'd been huddled over crew reports that still needed to be approved on top of everything else we had going on. In fact, she'd surprised me by heading down to the mess hall to sneak a snack from the kitchen and clear her mind when the ship appeared – meaning I had to call her right back to the bridge. It was a small ship, yes, not one we'd seen before, but we could afford to take nothing Devore lightly.

It was a good thing I'd called her back. The single occupant of that innocuous looking vessel was none other than Inspector Kashyk himself. Spouting cryptic warnings about needing to speak with her.

He was out of uniform. Apparently, this was an unofficial visit. It set the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

We let him come aboard. We didn't have much choice. In uniform or not, with his armada of ships or without it, those resources were a comm. call away, still at his disposal. We couldn't take the chance of refusing to speak with him and having that be construed as a refusal to obey a directive by an officer.

She gave orders for him to be escorted to her ready room. Alone, because she refused to concede ground to him, much less give him the impression she felt she had anything to fear from him. And one on one, I knew she could handle him fine if he stepped out of line. I also had her promise of before that she wouldn't allow herself to get into trouble without calling for help. Any lingering doubt I had about her being alone in the ready room with Kashyk were assuaged by that. Until the minutes started to drag on while they were in there. And on. And on…

She emerged from the ready room. All eyes turned to her. She cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Rollins."

"Ma'am?" He stood at sharper attention, awaiting her orders.

Slowly, she explained, "Inspector Kashyk…has just requested asylum aboard _Voyager_."

"_Asylum_?" I couldn't help spitting – beating Tom and the rest of them to the punch.

"Yes. He claims to be defecting."

She didn't believe him. Of course she didn't believe him. I stared hard at her. Watching, waiting for the flicker or the disbelieving smirk that would reassure me that she wasn't putting actual stock in this outrageous tale.

It didn't come. Her voice was expressionless. So was her face. Until she locked gazes with me, that was. For a brief instant, her eyes blazed at me across the deck, a thousand different statements in that single look. Not least of which being that she wanted to speak with me. Alone. I nodded, but she'd already looked to Rollins again. She cleared her throat. "Please escort the inspector to the conference room and make sure he remains under constant supervision until I decide how to handle his request."

The disbelieving looks they were all shooting her hardened my expression, chased away any hint of doubt I'd let show on my face to begin with. I straightened, looking expectantly to Rollins, who only faltered briefly, to his credit.

"Aye, Captain," he acknowledged, gathering himself – and closing the jaw that had dropped open at her last statement. Everyone else turned studiously back to their stations when fixed with piercing looks from the both of us, and then I caught her making for the upper level of the bridge.

"Commander," she called on her way to the turbolift, though it wasn't necessary. I was already almost there, right behind her.

This was a conversation we wouldn't trust to the ready room – or anywhere else we might be expected to discuss it. She led the way…as she had earlier this morning, when we'd first discussed the increasing likelihood of the surveillance equipment the Devore probably left aboard. Like this morning, I followed her silently, waiting to ask the hundred questions that were burning to be asked. Forcing myself to wait. She ordered the lift to dispense us on deck fourteen this time. Varying the location of our impromptu secret exchanges was just an extra security measure.

We'd barely managed to make it to deck fourteen's deserted decks and securely into a snug, secure-as-we-could-make-it alcove before I had to start telling her what was on my mind.

"Kathryn, you can't seriously think we can trust–"

She held up her hand, stopping me in mid-protest. "You can save the scorpion anecdotes, Chakotay," she assured me with a wry tilt of her head. "I don't buy his story for a second."

The tension that had been building since we'd picked up Kashyk's vessel hissed slowly out of me. I couldn't quite manage a laugh at her teasing reference, because it still felt too soon, but…_thank every spirit that ever existed, _I thought. I swallowed, trying to moisten a desert-dry throat. And cracked a weak smile. "Could have fooled me."

She raised a brow. "Apparently, I did."

"Not really," I recovered quickly. She stared at me, the uplifted brow rising another increment, and I shrugged sheepishly. "You have a hell of a poker face, Kathryn," I had to remind her.

"Hmm." She hadn't quite forgiven me my lapse in faith, but she moved on from necessity. "I just didn't want to show my hand on the bridge."

I waited for her to continue, but while waiting, felt myself lean up against the console beside me, feeling a strange need to block any view of her from outside the tiny corridor's alcove, even though I knew we'd confirmed less than an hour ago that there were no Devore recording devices on this deck – as best we could, anyway.

"We're sending him packing, of course," I finally stated the fact that I knew to be a certainty. "Once you figure out how you want it to look when we do it, we're kicking him back out into space where we found him."

She said nothing. Just stared back me, an intense look in her eye. _The_ look. The one that had my blood pressure rising at the mere sight of it, and I blinked. Shocked. "You're actually going to entertain this?"

"I don't have a _choice_," she clipped. I started to shift, to fully face her, getting ready to try and talk some sense into her since she'd apparently lost her mind, but she shook her head. Spreading her arms in exasperation. "What would you suggest I do? Tell him there's no way I'm going to believe his story and send him packing? He _knows_, Chakotay," she gritted out, her voice like steel and her eyes as hard as they were during any red alert, setting my spine tingling and my body stiffening with her demeanor alone. "He just stood there in my ready room, and told me exactly where those telepaths are. How _many_ there are." My eyes widened in shock as she continued, "He knew the specific room and the method we'd used to hide them in it." She scoffed disgustedly, "Hell, he knew when and where we'd taken them on!"

"He knows when…? And where…?" I trailed off hollowly, the blood starting to pound through my temples. My stomach continuing to churn perpetually as I turned her words over in my mind. Slowly digested their meaning. My throat had gone back to its desert dry state, just that quickly.

There wasn't really an ounce of room for questioning what she'd just told me.

"You were right," I realized slowly. "You were right, to be suspicious. He _did_ know." I swore under my breath. "There _must_ be recording devices somewhere on this ship we just haven't found."

"Looks like it," she agreed stonily.

There was no other conclusion to reach. I couldn't see how it could be otherwise, given this new information. "They have to have surveillance technology superior to ours, because we're not detecting their devices, even with our most sensitive scans."

"Looks like that, too," she confirmed darkly. In a way that let me know it had already occurred to her as we both glanced around us uneasily. The question of just how secure we really were while talking here suddenly made real again, despite our intensive scans of this area.

I thought about what this all meant. Kashyk's presence. What he apparently knew. The ramifications of what she'd just revealed to me, had really dumped into my lap like a shuttle crash-landing right on top of me.

Hell. If he _knew…_

"So it's not some elaborate entrapment he's trying." It had been the first thing to cross my mind when she'd announced his claim on the bridge. "He's not here to trap us into committing a crime by harboring him just so he can detain us for it." She shook her head in agreement as I continued, "Because he already _has_ all the evidence he'd need to detain us, if he'd wanted to." I couldn't imagine what it was he did want if it wasn't what he was claiming after all…_hoped_ I couldn't imagine it…and turned my mind back to the more relevant issue, which was, "So we _can't_ just turn him away. It's not an option. If we do, he has nothing to lose by turning us in."

"No," she confirmed, "he doesn't." And grimaced as she met my eyes again. "Brace yourself," she warned. "It gets worse."

"Out with it," I prodded grimly. Though I wasn't sure how much worse it could get…

"He claims the latest coordinates we've received weren't being sent from the transport vessel we _think_ we've been communicating with."

Not breathing, I waited for her to elaborate. My heart sinking further into the soles of my boots all the while.

"He claims the transport vessel was intercepted and that _his_ people sent us the last transmission. In order to trap us and other vessels smuggling telepaths in one sweep."

I shook my head, not wanting to believe that could be true. That we were already so deeply into this and hadn't realized. "But the signals matched each time we received those transmissions. They came from the same source…that was verified…"

"They would have, if the Devore simply sent the message from the confiscated transport vessel."

"True," I had to acknowledge, swallowing thickly. I mulled it over. Forcing my mind to work like Kashyk's. "It could still be a lie. He could just be pretending to know about the transport ship. He could be doing this whole song and dance about defecting to get us to lead him to the other vessel. Hoping to take out even more smugglers before–"

She was already shaking her head, making me trail off before she revealed, "He referred to the nebula specifically. He knows the coordinates we're headed for. And he claims it's a trap. That there are Devore warships lying in wait to detain us there."

"And he can _prove_ all of this?" I couldn't help making sure.

She nodded. "So he claims. He says he'll give the necessary modifications to Seven to enable her to detect their warships, and then we'll be able to see for ourselves he's telling the truth."

"He admits they use some sort of technology to cloak their ships?" I asked, my eyebrow rising in dubious surprise to mirror hers. She nodded again, and I exhaled a low breath.

My head shook slowly back and forth as the magnitude of his arrival here, and the gravity of our response to his ludicrous claims that he was defecting, all began to wash over me, one right after the other. As I came to understand how everything could now be riding on our response to his ridiculous ruse alone. "So we can't turn him away. But we sure as hell can't let him stay. We can't just…let him roam the ship freely…"

What the hell did we do?

But before I could grow uncomfortable enough to prod her, she looked up at me again. A new clarity to her eyes, and a crispness to her expression and body language. "Get Kir," she repeated. Her eyes flashing, no – flinting – steel. "And Tuvok. I'm going to speak with Harry, Tom and B'Elanna. Let them know what's going on, and that we haven't yet decided how to handle it. Get their first impressions. And then I'll meet you there – we'll decide what to do about all this between the four of us. And send Seven to Astrometrics in the meantime. I want to see this technology his ships are using to evade our sensors. Maybe it'll give us an insight into how to search for those recording devices, if nothing else."

That hadn't occurred to me yet. But I wasn't surprised it had occurred to her. We were already separating, parting ways. "Aye, Captain," I barely had time to respond as she disappeared around the corner. I set off at a pace just slightly short of running.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

"It's unusual, but not unheard of," Kir assured us when we confronted him with Kashyk's unlikely story in the mess hall. I raised my eyebrows as he continued, "There have been sympathizers before. Kashyk may be telling the truth."

Chakotay broke in with, "Maybe you should just read his thoughts."

I fought the urge to frown at him, even as Kir repressed a smile. We'd discussed that already, and I couldn't help but wonder where Chakotay's mind had wandered to in order for him to have missed it as Kir gently supplied, "Devore soldiers undergo years of mental training to prevent that."

"He might be telling the truth," Tuvok broke in, "but he also might be using us to find the wormhole."

That was the most likely scenario, now that we'd confirmed Kashyk's claims about those warships in that nebula. And the specifications on the Devore's refractive shielding had checked out, also. Meaning he either was telling the truth…unlikely…or he wanted to get to the wormhole desperately enough to betray a crucial tactical advantage his people had held over us until now.

Our credits were increasingly being stacked on the latter.

"So what do we do," Chakotay asked, exasperated, "throw him in the brig?"

That had been Tom's heated suggestion. B'Elanna had been less kind with the phrasing of hers. But it had made me smile, her intensity. I'd found it refreshing to have that intensity directed to another target besides me for a change.

Neither idea helped me, however. And there were still advantages to be had in this mess Kashyk's grand "defection" afforded us – the refractive shielding specifications only one of those advantages. I could make this elaborate deception of Kashyk's work for us, rather than against us. If I was wise enough to take advantage of the situation. _If_ I could continue to play Kashyk even more skillfully than he was attempting to play me. It would be difficult. He was a particularly intelligent, and cunning, man. It would take all of my focus, my training and instinct, to be able to play this to our advantage the way he was playing it to his.

I could do it, I decided firmly in that instant. I could do this…because I _had_ to.

"No," I declared. Making my final decision. All eyes snapped to me as I furthered, "We take him up on his offer to help. See how it plays out. But I want round-the-clock security," I cautioned strongly. "We need to watch his _every_ movement." Tuvok and Chakotay's nods were all I needed to see before turning my attention back to Kir. "That leaves us with our next question. How do we find the wormhole?"

We'd have to do it on our own, now that the transport vessel that had been compromised.

"I've given it some thought," the telepathic patriarch mused. "There's a scientist named Torat. He's from a nearby system. He's rumoured to know more about the wormhole than anyone. He might help us…for a price.

"A price?" I prompted warily.

He frowned slightly. "His species power their ships with a fluidic alloy that's difficult to find."

"Perhaps we can replicate it," my security chief took the words right out of my mouth – though with a more stoic delivery than I'd have given them, of course.

"I have some data on its composition," Kir ventured hopefully.

"See what you can do," I instructed both men. "In the meantime we'll set a course for Torat's planet. Try to track him down."

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

Finding Torat had been tricky; he'd been a man not wanting to be found, but we'd done it. And after she and Kashyk worked him over, the funny little alien scientist had provided us with some previous known coordinates of the Brenari wormhole – that Kathryn hadn't wanted the inspector to see.

She called for Torat to be escorted to the transporter room, but we didn't see her emerge with the inspector for a few minutes yet. When she finally stepped out of the ready room, Kashyk in tow, I had to pause looking at her. She'd looked alive and…satisfied. A particular glint in her eye catching my attention as she'd all but brushed by me, handing me a PADD and casually instructing me to have the data integrated into the computer core, because she and Kashyk wanted to work on it immediately. They were going to do it in the mess hall, where they could grab something to eat while they worked, she called over her shoulder. Kashyk lingered only briefly. Probably to gloat over the fact that he'd spent the better part of the past two days with her, and his smug smile was nothing less than viscerally provocative. Intentionally, I knew.

I refused to give him the satisfaction of rising to his bait. I refused to even look at him for more than a few seconds' time.

I repressed the smoldering of my rage when he passed by me, exchanging a more perfunctory nod with Tuvok as the inspector traced the path Kathryn was taking. As I held the PADD she'd handed off to me, giving her a belated nod she didn't see, I inclined my head towards the security team that followed Kashyk everywhere he went, indicating that they should follow now, too. Even if she dismissed them and made them wait outside the mess hall doors like she had the ready room earlier, they would be in arm's reach if she needed them. I had serious misgivings about her working so openly with Kashyk, thought we'd agreed not to share any knowledge with him regarding the wormhole's location. Apparently, I'd been mistaken. Or she'd changed her mind. But that didn't mean _I_ was going to let my guard down around him, too. Even if she appeared to be, to some extent.

_Especially_ if she appeared to be.

Tuvok met my eyes briefly over his console, his steady gaze indicating absolute approval of my direction to his team.

There was no point in hiding Tuvok from Kashyk anymore. He'd known about our telepathic crew, too, according to Kathryn. She thought that forcing a little interaction with our telepathic passengers and crew might even be a good way to gauge Kashyk's truthfulness. After all, according to his claims, he would be living among the Brenari once he passed through that wormhole with them. There was also the fact that making him comfortable, after the hell he'd personally put us through during that first inspection, wasn't exactly our top priority. So far, he was a long way from appearing comfortable around Tuvok, but he held himself in check enough not to give off glaring indications of hating him.

I was glad I'd thumbed the PADD on, curious, before handing it over to Harry to see to her instructions. I caught the note she must have typed into the subject line without Kashyk's knowledge and couldn't repress the small smile as I read her message.

DON'T TRANSFER DIRECTLY TO COMPUTER CORE. USE ALTERNATE COORDINATES, BUT MAKE THEM LOOK SIMILAR. HE GLANCED AT THEM, BUT ONLY BRIEFLY. KEEP AN EYE ON US. I MAY HAVE TO GIVE FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS VISUALLY.

I relaxed considerably. That was more like it. A lot more. Handing the PADD off to Harry, I paused just long enough to make sure he read her message. He glanced up and nodded once. Letting me know he understood her orders, and I strolled up to Tuvok's station. "Keep an eye on them," I instructed quietly. "Watch closely for any instruction she might feel the need to give you. I've got to get down below," I was deliberately vague on this part, "and check on our teams. Keep me apprised, and let me know when they're finished."

He raised a questioning brow but nodded. "Understood, Commander."

I met up with her when she was finished, some eight hours later. She'd played it perfectly – admirably, in Tuvok's exact words, and it had been a relief to know. She'd left him at his quarters, declining his invitation to come inside and "toast their accomplishment".

Tuvok had been watching the whole time, keenly following every second of interaction with Kashyk. I knew that, and it was what had helped quell the doubts raging like hungry lions clawing at my back while she'd been in there with him all that time. Having seen just a clip of that interaction, however, all that I had time for with the continual sweeps we'd been running of the ship for surveillance devices, I'd grown decidedly uneasy with the extent of her "admirable" performance in that room.

"He's not quite there yet, Chakotay. He's not where we need him to be."

Those were just about the _last_ words I wanted to hear out of her mouth. She was already giving the bastard more of herself even in role-playing than anyone else in the quadrant had ever really had. I could see it, at least, and even if she couldn't, I knew Tuvok could, too…

"What are you thinking about?" I was brave enough to venture. Not even sure that I really wanted to know.

She grunted a non-answer at me. But looking at her, I could see the wheels turning in her head. Her mind was busily working something over – something I'd never have followed at the speed at which she was processing it then. "Kathryn?" I dared to prompt again. "What aren't you telling me?"

Her eyes had clouded, and I didn't like that because it meant she was further away from me than I'd prefer, but the look passed before I could really focus on it. "I'm just thinking…" she trailed off. Clearly still at it.

I waited as patiently as I could until she locked gazes with me. And then I braced myself.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

I stalled. I'm not proud of it, but there were other considerations I needed to address first. Or so I told myself. I backtracked on the conversation, needing to clarify certain assumptions. Needing some things laid out before we got to my own role in this mess. "Tuvok made sure the formulas were switched before Kashyk saw them?"

Chakotay nodded gravely. "He did. While you were en route to the mess hall, the data on the PADD Turat filled in was shorted out and switched with comparable locations, like you asked."

I'd had only a second to type that message, asking that the locations be switched. And even while Kashyk and I were en route to the mess hall, I hadn't been able to double check the data to be sure the coordinates we were using were different than the ones the odd little scientist had given us. So I hadn't been sure they'd gotten my message before Kashyk and I had begun "working".

I released the breath I'd been holding, relaxing considerably. "Good. And when I asked the computer to run the locations? You caught what I wanted?"

"Yes. We got to that data, too. Just before he saw it." He paused, looking troubled. "We almost didn't catch that, by the way. What you were doing. You wanted us to have the computer tell him what you were asking it to do had worked."

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to pick up on that. I didn't want him looking at that data for too long, false or no, but I couldn't shut him out of the process outright without him being too suspicious." He nodded his understanding, shifting to rest his weight on his arm, placing his hand against the wall beside me as I continued. "I didn't think of that last maneuver until we were already in there, going through the data. It took some time for me to get a feel for his strengths and weaknesses." Chakotay gave me a questioning look at that, and I elaborated, realizing he wasn't privy to my every observation about Kashyk's capabilities. "He hasn't had any formal training in the field," I explained. "What he knows are the basics, with some specialized knowledge he's picked up over the years…or else intuited on his own, if I had to guess. But his foundation isn't there. It's no wonder he hasn't been able to find this wormhole on his own. And if his education on astrological phenomena is typical of most Devore, it makes sense that none of the Devore scientists have found it yet, either."

"You realized you could get away with asking the computer to run the transkinetic analysis, based on the knowledge he showed he has. Or doesn't have."

"Exactly. After we'd been working for a while, I realized the easiest way would be just to make him believe we'd worked it out." I cringed, remembering the tension running through me and how hard it had been to hide from Kashyk the almost unreadable signals I'd been giving Tuvok. How I'd been praying he'd catch them, as subtly as I'd had to give them.

"I'd just gotten to Tuvok's station when you told the computer to run the trans-kinetic analysis." He shrugged almost sheepishly. "It seemed plausible enough to me. Tuvok, too, I think." I smiled, unable to repress it. Like Kashyk, this sort of thing simply isn't his strong suit. "Tuvok caught what you wanted him to do when you looked at the door the third time when Kashyk's back was turned, but he wasn't sure _why _you wanted him to do it."

"I wasn't expecting him to, really. I was just hoping like hell he caught my signal to do it – and that he did it." I squinted at him, considering what he'd said as it caught up with my racing thoughts. "So…how did you figure it out then? What I was really doing?"

He considered pretending offense at my lack of faith. Gave up on the idea just as swiftly at my penetrating stare, another sheepish smile dimpling his chin. "Seven had stopped by to see if she could help work on the analysis."

"Ah." _That's my girl_ I thought, studying my feet as I shifted my weight with an auspiciously proud little quirk of my lips.

"And when you wanted the points in subspace, she pulled us outside. Wanted to know what the hell you thought you were doing. She said you'd made a 'crucial error in logic' that seemed 'beneath your usual standards'." His smile was tolerantly amused now as he recalled her wording for my vicarious enjoyment, and I laughed, picturing her austere Borg expression when she'd said it. "She realized it a few seconds later."

"And informed the rest of you." I was beyond proud of them. We'd pulled that off perfectly. I couldn't have asked for better. But I sobered. "She's not still working on it, is she?"

He shook his head. "She wanted to, but I made her go back to the cargo bay to regenerate. She hasn't for several days, by my count."

"Good. I need you to stop by her alcove in the morning and ask her to go for a walk."

His eyes widened in expectation.

"Under _no_ circumstance is she to continue working on that wormhole's location. Is that clear?"

He began shaking his head. "I thought we wanted…?"

"To find it? Yes. I'm pretty sure I've figured it out. Most of it, anyway. It's related to what I told Kashyk, but with a few crucial tweaks. After I take care of a few smaller things, I'm going to spend the rest of tonight working from a remote workstation. With the computer's help, I should be able to work this out alone, but I'll need to erase everything the moment I do."

"You don't want _him_ able to work it out later," he realized aloud. "Or to find your work if he goes pawing through the database again."

I leaned forward, locking eyes with him to make the point hit home. "It's _vital_ that he not be able to do that, Chakotay. Aside from finding the wormhole, that's our top priority. He is not to have access to that information. Not to the true previous locations, nor to the true formulas to be able to work out future appearances. That information cannot fall into Devore hands – I can't stress that enough. Everyone needs to be made aware of it."

"We've decided he's definitely not defecting, then?"

I snorted. Just staring at him from across the small space between us. He grinned. "Just checking."

I sighed, rolling my shoulders against the tension forming in them.

And because he couldn't help himself, he tried, "You don't have to work on this tonight, Kathryn. Get some rest. It'll keep until morning."

I shook my head. "No. It won't. These calculations are far too complicated to let go, and I need to be working on them soon, while they're fresh in my mind. Waiting until morning will be too long." I took a deep, inward sigh of a breath. "If I could have Seven's help with it, maybe," I mused ruefully. "Or Harry's…"

"You can," he insisted. "You know they can be trusted to–"

"No," I cut in. Firmly. "It's not a matter of trust, Chakotay. It's a matter of deniability and of ship's security. No one is going to know those formulas but me."

His entire expression dropped. That look crossing his face…the one that I'd been hoping like hell I wouldn't have to combat. Not tonight, damn it, there was too much left to do and I was too tired–

He dropped the gauntlet anyway. "You want to make sure _you're_ the only person they can come after later," he declared flatly.

I met his accusing gaze. Unflinching, and unwavering. "Yes."

That was all I wanted at this juncture. And it would happen exactly that way, whether he, or the rest of them, liked it or not.

He considered trying to stare me down, I saw – trying to _talk_ me down. I made sure he saw no chink in my armor, no weakness to be able to work. And after a moment, he simply closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, and I'd won, and wanted to be satisfied with myself, but I saw the tired lines around his eyes and mouth so clearly again that I was suddenly saddened. Very saddened, for reasons I wasn't even sure I could identify.

But I sure as hell didn't have time and energy to waste in trying. Not with what I had to lay out for him next, and not with what I knew full well could be an explosive, vehement argument in the making from him.

I needed to know where he stood on this. How much I could count on him for support. That would determine how things played out as much as anything. I braced myself for the coming confrontation. Marshalling the remaining dregs of my stamina and squaring my shoulders for the coming fight.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

"He's intelligent, Chakotay."

Damn. I tensed instinctively. Her tone was wrong. She was buttering me up for something…something _bad_. Considering the bomb she'd just dropped on me about the wormhole location…it did nothing good for the ulcer I was steadily developing. I felt my hands going low on my hips, preparing for the plasma grenade she was about to detonate on me now but kept my tone even. "You've said that, Kathryn," I reminded her patiently. "And I've agreed with you."

"We need him to believe he's succeeding in this deception."

_Which one?_ I forcefully clamped down on my tongue to keep from asking as she continued.

"We're only going to have a chance of coming out of this unscathed if we can convince him that he's convincing _me_. If I keep playing along," she expanded, even added, "and it'll help if you do, too."

I felt a huge portion of my stomach dropping into my boots as she pointedly avoided looking me right in the eyes.

_Playing along_. With the way I'd seen him looking at her, the few seconds of footage I'd been able to review of the encounter she'd just come away from in the mess hall, I knew what that meant. All too plainly. She was already playing along. How much more did she think was warranted here? And I could feel panic beginning to shoot through me, as surely as I knew that showing it would have me shut out of her plans, and I tamped down on it as tightly as possible, making sure it wouldn't be visible.

"Playing along," I echoed hollowly. Prompting her to explain what I knew she didn't want to.

"I'm going to keep letting my guard down around him," she gritted out painfully. "Let him think he's winning me over. That's going to work much better if you and the rest of the crew react as naturally to that idea as possible." I stared at her, and she raised her eyebrow again. "If you make no secret of not being happy about that fact," she clarified. "It'll be a lot more believable that I'm falling for him if the rest of you appear to hate the idea as much as you should."

_Falling for him. _The phrase alone made me sick. Deception or no, these were dark, murky waters. Dangerous waters, with deadly predators lurking just below the surface. Waters rife with massive rip tides, like the ones I remembered from childhood…like those on Dorvan after a hurricane had bypassed the coast. She could so easily be caught up in them and carried far beyond any human aid. We all could.

My throat was starting to close up and feel tight. "Falling for him," I heard myself repeat faintly. "You want to pretend…" Spirits, hell. _No_. _Kathryn. Don't! _

But we don't do that. We don't play that game, don't even dip our toes in waters that neither one of us can afford to try and tread out here. Water just as dangerous as the other she was proposing diving headfirst into. The two of them would _not_ mix. And no amount of overreaction, even _re_action from me was going to play well right now, but I couldn't just _let_ her…

I swallowed, my gaze deliberately, carefully on the deck as I tried to control my breathing. My heart rate. "Does 'pretending'…mean what I think it does?" I don't know how I managed to ask it as calmly as I did.

"We're at a distinct disadvantage here." She began laying out her argument. One I already knew would be smart and logical. Tactically sound – and probably impenetrable. "They do have most of the power, and apparently, the ability to figure out what we're really doing. They do this for a living. They're not to be underestimated in any circumstances, and I can't afford to throw away a single opportunity to keep him distracted. And it's a long shot that he's genuinely interested," I kept my mouth firmly shut, even clamping down on the outside edges of my tongue to keep anything but my jaw from flexing at that, "but if I have a chance to fool him enough to think that _I'm_ genuinely interested, and cause him to underestimate _me_ – I have to take it."

Her eyes were finally on mine then. Sharp. Assessing. "Tell me I can count on you to understand all this, Chakotay."

I was forced to meet her eyes. To swallow my personal concerns. I had one thin line I could wander along, one chance to say everything I desperately needed to say to her. One shot to convey every sentiment I wanted her to take to heart. About her welfare, and the danger involved in such a plan.

"It's my job to look after your safety, Kathryn," I returned as evenly as possible. Carefully showing no more hint of concern than I knew I could get away with. "And on top of that, you're my friend." That much, I was allowed to say, to acknowledge. No more. "This isn't going to sit well with me, no matter how carefully we do it." Stressing the "we" as unsubtly as I could was difficult while ensuring the inflection didn't betray me, but I managed it. And held my breath for her reaction. For her assessment.

I'd passed. I could see that I'd passed in the slightest softening of her expression. Relief flooded into me as her hand came up to rest bracingly, warmly on my arm. "If it makes you feel any better, it sure as hell isn't going to sit well with me, either."

It did, actually. It made a tiny, primitive part of me feel better to know that she wasn't going to enjoy it, at least. In spite of how _admirably_ she'd been pretending otherwise over that coffee moments beforehand.

But I also needed to know how far she would go. And outright asking her now, in this climate between us, under this kind of strain and tension…wasn't the way to play it. I had to coax it out of her. Baby step by agonizing baby step.

"Are you sure?" I actually forced myself to tease, despite it being the last thing in the galaxy I was in the mood for. I pushed the clenching, the twisting of my gut away in the back of my mind, kept my tone and tenor steady. Because I knew it was the best way to lighten the tension for _her_. To make sure she had no excuse to "shield" me from any of this, and to ensure that she at least kept me in the loop as to her plans.

I had her curious with my efforts, albeit warily, and she gave me a mistrustful glare in response. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she demanded, self-righteously indignant. "Am I sure about what?"

I shrugged, scrubbing a hand over my chin to disguise the weakness of my smile. "Granted, I'm not the best judge, but I'm told he's handsome enough, by general consensus of the female crew…"

"_Really_?" The glare had receded. She slanted a suspicious eyebrow at me. Knowing what I was doing now, yet appreciating me for it all the same. And then she grimaced, as some unseen thought crossed her mind. "Good God, Chakotay. Was someone actually taking a _poll_?"

I shrugged again, realizing what I'd just betrayed. Great. Now she'd be worried about what the _crew_ was thinking. I tried playing it off as much as possible. "B'Elanna and Tom might've been wondering about–"

"Never mind." She held up a hand again, her eyes closing in deep suffering as she shook her head. "I'm _sure_ I'd rather not know."

She was probably right, and it had annoyed the hell out of me to come up behind them and overhear them discussing it, but it wasn't the crew's fault. The inspector's interest in her was hardly a well-kept secret. He'd made it obvious enough from the way he looked at her, from the way he'd always pulled her into the ready room alone. From the way his hooded eyes followed her around the room even now that he'd "defected", when he thought no one was looking.

And Kathryn's pretending not to have noticed, or believing it wasn't genuine, be damned. I could rail about it, yell, plead, beg her to be reasonable until I was blue in the face – to counterproductive results – or I could smile. Jest. Joke about it. Keep her confidence, and some small measure of control over how safe she was while she did this.

I smiled, ignoring the lead in my gut. The way it seemed determined to have lodged there permanently. "So," I furthered the jest, almost hoping she'd bite. "He's handsome. He's got the big guns, the fancy title, and the fast ship. What would _you_ think you were thinking about him…if you were me?"

She grinned, irreverently and wide. "That he's probably _compensating_ for something?"

I blinked. Then laughed out loud before I could stop myself, coloring as I realized how loudly the sound had traveled in the small compartment we were stuffed into and leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "Something _other_ than being a murdering, genocidal xenophobe, you mean?"

"You forgot arrogant. And insufferable," she added caustically. Entirely straight-faced and non-apologetic. "And yes – I meant something other than even that."

"Good to know where you stand on him, then," I allowed, but I was already sobering. Because none of our making light of it spoke to the danger, to all of the other, seedier aspects inherent to such a plan, and the mood of lightness was impossible to maintain for long.

She sighed. Rubbing at the tension accumulating in her shoulders. "I'm going to keep letting him think I'm working with him on the finding the wormhole. Letting him in, so to speak. But if possible, I want every relevant piece of data we can amass continually kept from him. I may have to give you signals that aren't so…obvious again, if the time comes and especially if he's in the room." She paused, thinking it over, her mind working at a million kilometers per second. "Just…be ready to pick up on the slightest of cues from me, if I have to use them again."

I nodded. "Can do."

She'd relaxed into my acceptance of this. Rather, into my _apparent_ acceptance of it, which was what it really was at this early juncture. But I could ask now what I _needed_ to know from her.

"How far will you take it?" I asked her quietly. Steeling myself for, clenching my gut in anticipation of her answer.

It came, right on cue, and just as deadly as expected.

"As far as I have to, Chakotay," she returned evenly. Decisively, and without hesitation. "It's really going to be up to him…"

"It's up to _you_, Kathryn, not him. Not _ever_ him," I retorted heatedly. Too heatedly, too swiftly, and too automatically to stop myself. I forced myself to back down at the sharp reproach in her eyes then and to take a breath. To soften my approach. "What I meant…" I backtracked quietly, "is that any number of distractions and emergencies can come up at any given signal from you."

"And you don't think he'd find that the slightest bit suspicious?" She raised her eyebrow at me in that humoring way that makes me crazy more than anything. "If every single time we're about to…if _every_ time, something comes up?"

"Plenty of men have been in the position before and learned to deal with it."

"But not without getting the hint, eventually, that she isn't interested. Which is exactly what we _don't_ want in this instance," she reminded me sharply.

I could only look at the floor. Trying to summon the right words. The right argument…_anything_…to change her mind.

And coming up empty.

And then it was too late.

"I've got to meet with him again. If I've gotten as good a read on him as I think I have, he's arrogant enough to expect me to break and come back to him tonight. He's expecting me, I'm sure of it. But first I need to stop and jot down these wormhole calculations. Get them into print before I lose them." Her hardened expression flickered just one tiny bit. "I'll let you know as soon as I'm finished."

She started to walk by me. Ready to leave. I couldn't let her.

I caught her arm. She raised a challenging brow at me for about the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, and I ignored the fifth one, too. "Tuvok's still watching him," I reminded her. She took her arm back, and I let her without a fight because my point had been made.

Surprising the hell out of me, she didn't bother arguing, or demanding that the surveillance be stopped. Maybe because she saw the determined light in my eye. Maybe, if I wanted to delude myself, just because she was taking her safety into account for once. Maybe because she fully realized how dangerous this kind of deception was with a man like Kashyk, with a race like the Devore, and because she'd already planned to have someone watching out for her. I don't know. I just know that she nodded curtly. Agreeing. "You or Tuvok will continue monitoring in case I run into…trouble," she allowed archly. "No one else. And no matter what you see in there–"

"No one will interrupt you unless you call for us…or you're being harmed." It killed me to say it. To confirm it. But it was the only option she was leaving me with. The only option _Kashyk_ was leaving me with. And because if he did try to harm her, in any way…it would give me the excuse I craved to rearrange his cocky face for him.

She was silent for a moment. Running through her options? Trying to find a way out of this? Out of doing what she was considering?

She still hadn't explicitly told me what it was she was even considering. Again, I couldn't gauge her reasons. But again, she nodded.

And that had to be enough for me. Even if it wasn't. Watching her walk away from me, against every instinct in my body, I let her go.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

"_It worked."_

I almost missed it. The smile she gave me when she spoke those words. She breathed them, pure pleasure reflecting across those smoldering alien features. Pure triumph_. So close._ And I almost missed it, I was so focused on the success of that method. On the nearness of my life-long dream. I'd never _thought_ to check in subspace…really, who would have? It was the most obscure method of looking for the thing I could think of – but it _worked_. She was right. And we were going to find that wormhole, once and for all, I realized – with her help, of course.

It was in the next instant, once my own surge of triumph had its way with me, but in the _next_ instant…

That was when I realized just how intelligent she really is. I'd known she wasn't stupid, of course. But that kind of reasoning…that kind of pure, deductive reasoning…there was no way in seven hells any man watching her work out that age-old problem could go on underestimating her any longer. And I wanted her for it all the more. But it was then that I realized just how deeply she was playing the game I'd laid out for us to play…just how deeply we were _both_ playing it. As deeply as anyone ever had, deeper than I myself had ever hoped to be able to play it. I've simply never had an adversary with the necessary qualities. But she did. Kathryn had them. She was playing the game to the fullest, with every single faculty at her command.

And there was no more denying that they were watching me, that they were watching _us_. She wasn't foolish enough to trust me at this early stage in the game, would never risk being alone with me, no matter how willfully prideful I already knew her to be. And my gazes, the long, lasting, lingering gazes I'd made a habit of allowing to pass over her when _she_ wasn't watching had to be quelled immediately. Along with many other things.

I told her the story while we waited for the results from the computer. The story I'd prepared about the telepath girl. And, like a good liar, I made myself believe it while I told it.

To put on an effective performance, some part of you must always believe your own lies. There's no other way to do it effectively.

The tears pricked my eyes, the emotion swelled in my throat as genuinely as any I've ever had, and I soiled the purity of my own soul with the compassion I was forced to summon for the girl. For the compassion I was forced to summon for myself – far less palatable, strangely. There was no cause for self–compassion and certainly none for self-_pity_. I was on the verge of achieving everything I'd ever dreamed of, everything I'd ever longed for.

I still wanted her then – I made myself _believe_ I wanted her then, in spite of my excitement over our progress with the wormhole. I made myself believe I wanted her the way she undoubtedly _wanted_ to be wanted, that was to say gently. With affection, not possession. With reverence and caring. Compassion. I've read her database. She wanted romance. Tenderness. That was what a human female preferred. She would want to make love first as equals. To establish trust and to reinforce her equality I would take her gently, generously attending to her pleasure over my own. A thing as alien to me as she was, but one I would do, for the love of country.

I could do it, if I had to, I'd decided, and I was consoling myself with the knowledge that it would only take once or twice to establish her complete and unfailing trust in me. Then, when she trusted me, I'd introduce her to the pleasure of being taken, completely and utterly, without apology or doubt or thought, but first, it had to be her way. With mutual respect, and with tenderness I would have to muster from…somewhere.

I told myself _that_ was how I wanted her in order to make her believe it, too. And I turned my attention back to her, to seducing her. For it was that alone which would engage her emotions into this dynamic between us, would sway her more under my control and make her future actions more predictable.

I'd miscalculated. It was in the slightest gestures from her, which I had to be excellent at catching, at analyzing. It was in the smallest facial expressions…no, it was the intensity of her _eyes_. The more agreeable I was to her every miniscule whim, the more that intensity, that heightened tension stretching between us like an ever-thinning plasma thread about to snap…began to fizzle, and fade. Too much, I realized belatedly after much confounded calculation on my part. Too much giving, too much subservience.

That was it, and I could have kicked myself for my stupidity. I'd taken it too far in the beginning. Had been too nice, too solicitous now. Already, she knew me better than to trust it. What intrigued her about me, what she trusted and knew to be true in me had _everything_ to do with the uniform and all it represented. With confidence and pushing back at her, with being her equal, if not her superior (which I undoubtedly was, of course, even if she was far too arrogant to ever admit it). But the struggle for dominance, the play of intellect was the crux of it. The _challenge_. That was what she wanted, needed, to be drawn completely into me. She needed to see aspects of that challenge in my behavior to be able to trust it was genuine, and I stepped it up immediately. Began to push back, to rework into the dynamic of conversation the power play we'd engaged in upon my previous visits, and then I almost forgot about the wormhole entirely because I fell into the role so well. That heat began resurfacing, the scent of her interest swelled in the air around us, and that delicious tension that's been charging the atmosphere whenever we were in the room together began to reassert itself as I stood close to her, reminding her with casual dissonance to her confidence that she has made questionable command decisions according to that all-helpful database of hers. Challenge. Forcing her to stay alert, and keeping that battle going. Feeding the tension.

It was beginning to work. I had tagged her jacket by the time I'd joined her at the viewport, ensuring that I could track her movements about the ship until she changed it, and my setup was almost complete.

I almost had her. At the doors, when she dropped me off just now, I knew I was close to having her. One final test, I'd decided. And I thought that I'd appeared sincere enough to pass the crucial test for her to relent and enter with me. To trust me. But I was wrong.

_Only because they're watching me_, I told myself as I forced my movements to be easier instead of sharp, which they wanted to be at her demurral. I covertly checked the local transponder, a complex coded encryption that alerted me to her location via the transponder's signal, imbedded discreetly along the inside sole of my shoe. This I checked only in the privacy of the bathroom – if I had privacy anywhere, it would be there. She was still in her quarters, according to the number sequence. My jaw clenched as I made my way back out to my living area. She was leaving me here, in this…sparse room. _Deliberately_ sparse. No computer access. No communications, and even if I'd dared activate the subspace transponder and file my report to Prax, I already knew there was a communications damper around the room. No signal would transmit – not even my state of the art technology would penetrate it. She'd left me in what was little more than a well-padded cell. With a _nonworking_ replicator.

_A safety precaution. You understand?_

A snarl pulled at my lips. If I was sure of being unobserved, I'd have kicked something. Smashed something and taken untamed pleasure in the crunching and smashing of glass that would double as the delicate bones in her arrogant, smirking face in that instant of destruction…

But I wasn't certain. In fact, I'd come to be more certain of two things as I stood there, just inside the doors and literally shaking with rage. The first that I was being observed, that she was far too cunning not to want to know every small detail she could glean from the moments in which I might mistakenly believe myself ensconced within the safety of complete privacy…and the second what I should have known at the outset of this mess: she wasn't going to make this as easy as I had anticipated. Damn her. If she didn't trust me, even a little, this would never work.

I needed some _kami_ juice. Something to help me calm down. The pitcher of water on the low coffee table by the couch in the living area wasn't going to be enough to do more than slake my basic physical thirst, but I approached it anyway, my irritation growing. _Water_. _What's next…bread?_

She could not have been less subtle in the message to someone who has read her database. Through my anger, I wondered if she was perhaps testing what I'd read and what I hadn't, but _of course_ I skimmed their practices for holding prisoners. Practices, theory, evolution. I was interested in the knowledge in its own right, though I might not have gotten around to it under other circumstances, but it was certainly practical information to peruse just before coming here to pretend to throw myself at her mercy. My lip still curled in disgust as I gripped the glass harder than necessary to turn it right-side-up for pouring, my hands trembling with building wrath as I filled it and tried to control my rising ire, snorting softly to myself in an attempt to expel some of it from my system.

It was plain, of course. Cool. Nothing like the coffee – which I still hated, despite the lie I'd told her. But at least the coffee had some sort of strangely…satisfying aspect to it upon consumption. When I got back to my ship, I needed to look that up. To study its chemical structure and see if I could determine what that mysterious element was that made the bitter stuff so satisfying to consume. Hells, I was craving some of it _now_. Not the taste but the sensation of satisfaction. Anything with an ounce of calming to distract me from the physical condition she'd left me in after standing there with her in that mess hall, breathing the scent of her all damned night long.

My jaw worked as I forced myself not to pace. _I don't like it here_, I thought to myself again. It was too alien, too strange. _At least it's clean_, I tried to console myself yet again. Still, perhaps one of their sonic showers would be in order. Just to…make absolutely _certain_…

But what if she came back and I wasn't available? In the back of my mind, I'd decided that she would. That she'd wanted to, that she wanted to be where she belonged this evening, which was in this room, in my bed. Under me. I think I'd been telling myself that she simply didn't want her crew to know how much she _wanted_ to be in here, and that made sense to me…her not wanting them to know how much she wanted me. I'd honestly been expecting her to show, perhaps to use the transporters when no one was manning them, even though it would be a violation of codicils. She was being quite casual in disobeying those in front of me, knowing there was little I could – rather, _would_ – do about it. At least now while I was in the middle of this farce.

But the minutes passed, ticking by while I stood there, standing over the coffee table and drinking the plain, unsatisfying water. And I began to realize with sinking heart that too much time had passed. She wasn't coming after all. _I'd fail_–

She materialized before the thought could be completed, and even if the sound didn't alert me, I would know who was here well prior to turning and facing the intruder. The scent of her swirled in the air around me, though she had not yet moved, and it intoxicated me just that swiftly. To my surprise, I wasn't entirely ready for it. Though I should have been. _Knowing_ she couldn't resist temptation for very much longer…

I'd known, of course. I hadn't been worried. Not really.

"Inspector." The purr of her voice. It sent shivers through me, if I was honest. It was meant to, and I cursed her for it, decided to add it to the list of sins she would atone for later, when this farce was over and done with and I had the wormhole, the ship…and her. And again, I damned the unmasculine, civilian clothing obscuring my body as I turned to drink in the sight of her. She'd left the jacket back in her room, and stood here in the more form-hugging grey sweater…shirt…whatever the hell it was. That was why I hadn't been alerted that she'd moved, of course. But good. It would be one less layer to have to remove in a few moments, and I licked the remaining drops of water from my lips as I observed her from under hooded lids.

My eye ridges drew up into the appearance of surprise, but I allowed the slow smile to spread across my face, taking care not to allow it to cross the line of being _too_ smug. There was a balance to be maintained here, as she'd caused me to learn earlier this evening. Not too much either way. "Captain. This is…a surprise."

She made a chastising sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth, although her smile was tolerant, her eyes amused. "And you were doing so well with being truthful this evening." She crossed the room, her movements so languid and fluid that it took me a moment to realize she held something in both her hands…I almost smiled again to grasp it as she set the items down on the table beside the water. Coffee. A container exactly like the one we'd shared in the mess hall and two of the same cups specialized for the warm liquid, all of which she arranged neatly and succinctly on the table before straightening and facing me again. "Don't spoil your record now," she chided softly. "You knew I'd come."

Yes. Of course I had. I merely shrugged as I continued to regard her closely. Drinking in that scent of her I was coming to know – and crave – so well. "Why didn't you accept my invitation earlier?" I questioned.

She held up two fingers in front of her. "Two reasons. The first–"

"Being that your crewman was watching," I quietly, only slightly smugly broke in before she could dance around it.

I would swear she colored at that. It was almost charming. But she never took her gaze away from my face, and as close as we were standing then, it was a heady sort of perusal she was subjecting me to then. I was being studied. Catalogued. Decided upon. I kept my cool, despite the unmistakable rise in temperature beginning to saturate the air around us. "What was the second?" I asked, casually sipping the remaining water in my glass just to restore some more of the moisture to my throat. My eyes never leaving her for an instant.

The grin she flashed then was pure deviousness. Deviltry. But it didn't quite prepare me for the frankness of her reply.

"Because you're an arrogant son of a bitch as it is, Kashyk." I blinked in shock, but she only laughed – low and warm and sultry, and I admit it took much of the sting out of the blatant insult as she elaborated, "I couldn't have you thinking you were irresistible, now could I?"

"Ah," I allowed, with an acknowledging nod. I set the glass down on the table, keeping my eyes glued to her and not missing the flicker in her smoky blue gaze as the leaning brought me to within centimeters of her and her scent assailed me, almost flooding through my senses as I scrutinized her just as closely as she was me. Judging her reactions, her true intentions as I straightened with deliberate slowness. Took a single step forward that almost brought me flush against her curved body. She tilted her head back to continue meeting my eyes, making the column of her white neck more visible, and my eyes couldn't help being drawn very briefly to the pulse beating at her throat.

The now swiftly-beating pulse at her throat.

"Then why are you here, Kathryn?" I taunted softly. But I wasn't feeling the superiority because she could change her mind at any second, and overstepping the balance would have her doing so out of sheer pride if nothing else, and I very much knew this about her already. I blunted the edge of the question, "Why did you come if I'm so easily…_resisted_?"

Her voice was low enough, sensual enough to be torturous as she whispered, "I don't quite know, Inspector."

"I hate that title," I reminded her of the lie. "Kashyk, please." I surveyed her expression at that, calculating what it could mean and ventured, "Unless it's the title that really attracts you."

We both knew that, on a basic level, it was.

She could no more afford to admit it than I could, however.

"Of course not. Kashyk," she added pointedly and cleared her throat.

She broke the spell – somewhat – by moving slightly out of range to lean down, giving her attention to the coffee long enough to pour two cups. As she stood upright again, sipping slowly from her mug, she pointedly ignored the way I stood, staring and soaking up her every minor movement. Avoiding my direct gaze. Leaving the ball in my court – where, incidentally, I happened to be comfortable with having it.

"Coffee?" she indicated the second cup with her free hand, where she'd poured out a portion for me.

It had lost all appeal, however. Considering the more tempting offering standing just beside it.

I made my decision. I want to say it was my mind that made it, that it was necessity that made it and not the raging, increasingly straining bulge in my civilian pants that made the choice, but that was as much a lie as any other I'd told her while pretending to defect to her "protection".

"No," I declined, hearing the growl of my own voice and seeing in the last second before I completely circled behind her the way she froze in the middle of taking another sip. Going very still as I stepped up behind her. And this time, I did allow our bodies to touch. Tentatively for an instant, and then, when she didn't protest, more firmly. I reached around in front of her, briefly closing my hand over the one that held the cup, and letting my fingertips – my very _bare_ fingertips – trail over the outside of hers. Beginning already to relearn the texture of fine porcelain skin there. Skin she didn't know how I already knew, skin she had no idea had me aching to learn the rest of it.

"Put it down," I commanded – wincing to realize the tone may have been too harsh in my increasing focus on what we were going to do now.

But she didn't react adversely to my tone. She did little more than comply, leaning forward briefly to set it down, and I confess it wasn't accidental that I stepped forward with her as she moved, allowing the flexing of her muscles to play against my own very aroused body, letting her feel the extent of what she did to me with just her presence. With just being here, only standing so very close to me. And it was with no small amount of satisfaction that I noted the way some of the hot liquid splashed over the side of the cup as my hands moved to smooth over her shoulders as she straightened.

"Are they watching?" I asked, not accidentally _very_ close to her ear, and I felt her reaction to those vibrations as what I liked to call a shiver.

"No." Her voice was a throaty whisper, almost breaking on the on the word.

I wasted no time, my fingers tightening into the bones of her shoulders, pulling her just this side of roughly back against me, relishing in, being further tortured by the softest of gasps escaping her slightly open mouth. My hands smoothed up and down her arms before I took some of the shining, faintly perfumed red hair aside, sweeping it to the right and exposing the left side of her compelling throat to my willing, hungry mouth and fastened my lips on the white skin revealed just below her ear. Sweeping my tongue along the warm expanse of skin my own open mouth encased, I heard another soft sound escape her lips. More of a moan than anything else, and then she unmistakably began to press herself back against me. Into me, and as her hand came up to cup the back of my head, her fingers playing through my hair and stimulating the sensitive skin even while she pushed back against me with as much skilled deliberation as with passion, the groan that filled the too-hot air around us was entirely masculine this time.

Even if I hadn't had to play this role with her, I already knew from studying that I would have to be _somewhat_ gentle. There were discrepancies in our physiologies, I strained to remind myself, even as I felt my stubborn resolve to restrain myself unraveling under the feel of her moving against my body.

She wasn't making retaining control of myself easy. _Nothing_ about her was easy. If I could be sure she wasn't lying about them watching…

If I could have been sure of that, she would already have been face down on the table, trying to hold on for dear life as I drove as deeply as possible inside of her. But I couldn't be, and the restraint required alone was sapping me of crucial intelligent thought. I allowed her to break free of my grip, to turn excruciatingly in my arms, brushing against me, and I schooled my features not to betray the depths of the wild, raging hunger she'd been fueling, building from the beginning of our first encounter. We looked into one another's eyes very briefly, catalogued the level of need in the other, checking for genuineness and for hints of deception. Just barely present enough, I suspect, in both our cases to do that one final time…

And then her fingers were coming up to my head again, her half-closed eyes focused on my slightly open mouth, fingers sliding through my hair, bringing my head down to her level in tandem with her rising up on her toes to bring her mouth higher, and our lips almost crushed together with all the ferocity living in both of us –

_No_, I remembered in the back of my mind at the last instant: _I wasn't going to let her…not right away_. I pulled my head to the side, out of her grasp, intending to play it off as I instead nuzzled the side of her neck, licking and nipping at the flavor of the flesh I'd already decided I needed to taste again and again before I'd have enough of–

"Kashyk," she murmured, in a tone meant for response.

I ignored her, my possessed hands smoothing firmly up and down the curves of her waist, ready to wander to more delightful places entirely, my eyes already dropping to her breasts and mentally undressing her, beginning to guess at what I would find once I began stripping away those cumbersome, coarse layers of cloth separating me from my prize. Her hands were sliding between us, flattening over my chest, and I tensed in anticipation of her skilled fingers slipping under the material, expecting to feel her nails perhaps razing my heated flesh and not certain I wouldn't lose control of myself entirely when she did…

She pushed back from me entirely, breaking free, and I groaned in frustration. In more than a little aggravation.

"_What_?" I growled, not bothering to keep the irritation from creeping into my voice. It was then, studying her expression closely, that I noticed how much clearer her eyes were. How much the haze of passion had receded from the blue…

She stepped forward again, but with deliberation. More calculation than need, and when her hands went again to my face, to the sides of my head and she leaned up to within a centimeter of my lips, I pulled back this time out of necessity. Out of concern.

It was the wrong thing to do.

She leaned back down, flattening her heels on the deck, pure, hurt accusation lasering me where I stood. Yet her voice was quiet, almost deathly calm as she asked, "Care to explain…?" She gestured vaguely between us, eyes locked onto mine, and we both knew what she meant.

"I…" Had she reduced me into a stuttering fool? _Damn_ her, did she have to make _every_thing such a trial?

I tried to look apologetic instead of murdering. This was a careful, crucial part of my calculations, had been from the beginning. I wanted her to believe she was weaning me from my beliefs in stages. I needed to hold something in reserve to be able to convince her my falling for her was gradual, genuine, and I had left that one simple aspect…kissing…for much later. Because it was intimate, more so than simple fucking. And especially because it certainly wasn't going to interfere with our pleasurable activities otherwise…as her filthy telepathic friend would have said, it was the logical choice.

Or so I'd _thought_.

She stared at me, no hint of arousal left on her face. Only the slight flushing of her skin remained of that, and that heady scent that had been swirling in the air, the scent unique to her was fading swiftly. I wished my own de-escalation was as swift, but in that moment, through my incredible rage at being so abruptly denied contact with, release from her, most of the crucial blood I was trying to gather for proper thought was still pooled decidedly in certain southern regions of my body.

She was still waiting for a response. This mattered to her _that_ much, and I was confounded.

"It…isn't done," I blurted more than explained.

She seemed confused. "Kissing? The Devore don't…?" Her eyebrows were rising, but so was my temper. As well as my physical frustration. "_Really_?"

"No." I felt somehow judged by her incredulity. As if my people were under attack, and my defense was swift. Perhaps too decidedly so. "We do. Of course we…" I was trying like hell to look more confused and sheepish than as enraged as I was becoming. Despite her sudden craving for banal conversation, I was seriously considering shoving her backwards onto the table and simply fucking the impulse out of her but prudence reigned yet over my behavior. "We just…not with…" I nodded in her general direction and shrugged, trailing off, eager to close the matter and move on with far more enjoyable activities.

"Not with a _gaharay_." Her entire face hardened before she could stop herself.

And I knew for certain that I'd lost my chance, that easily.

_No!_

"Kathryn…don't," I made myself coax instead of snap. I moved for her, reached for her, desperate not to let her get away. "It's habit, nothing more–"

She put her hand out, a shield against my chest that stopped me from moving forward any further, her eyes lowered to the level of that same hand. "It's all right, Kashyk," she assured me softly. "I understand."

But her refusal to let me near her belied the statement entirely. And she wouldn't look at me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself…a deep, miserable _failure_ of a breath. "You're upset." I forced…_forced_ myself…to remain calm. To remain still. Even though every instinct, every fiber in my body – of my _being_ – protested inactivity. Craved to crush her against me, to learn every centimeter of the feel of her body smothered against mine. And swallowed, looking – I hoped – crestfallen instead of enraged. "I'm sorry. Don't let this ruin something as good as we both know we can be..."

_Don't you__ DARE. I'll break every bone in that delicate little _gaharay_ body of yours if you do, _I silently promised her, fuming under the veneer of civility I was compelled to maintain. And in that moment, I think I really would have. If this had been my ship, and she'd done this abrupt turn-around there…

"It's all right, Kashyk." There was a soothing quality to her voice inherent to rejection. I found it distasteful. _Galling_, that she had the nerve to believe she had the right, or the ability to truly refuse _me_. I could have her any time I wanted. _Could_ have, already, at least half a dozen times...!

But I had to pretend otherwise, of course.

"I told you, I understand. But I think…this was a good thing, in a way." The incredulous look I shot her then made her smile. _Faintly_. "Really. We were getting…carried away. And neither one of us can afford to be distracted right now. Our main concern should be finding that wormhole and getting the Brenari – and you – to safety. That's what we need to focus on until we accomplish our mission. You agree, of course?"

There was nothing _left_ for me but to agree. She knew I couldn't afford to pretend that my ultimate goal would be otherwise. It simply wouldn't fit with my defector alibi.

"Of course," I allowed, through only slightly gritted teeth. Forcing myself, yet again, to smother my natural impulse, which was to throttle the life out of her for what she had just done to me. For the size of the now-painful erection she was planning on leaving me with. If she knew what was good for her in future, when I came back and took the ship, she wouldn't _dare_ actually do this…

But there, too, I miscalculated. And it was my final mistake.

The anger. It swelled in my eyes, past my tight control. I know that it did, because her eyes narrowed just barely enough for me to perceive, but I caught it just the same. And she straightened. Beginning to smooth her appearance. Her hair. Her uniform. She'd made her decision.

She was really leaving. _Leaving_!

It took every ounce of self control not to reach out and stop her as she brushed by me then. But doing so would have been contrary to my mission. And I knew with certainty I didn't have enough information memorized from the little I was permitted to see of the computer's analysis to end this farce yet. Not yet…

As her solicitous, warm fingers that still had the skin on my arms and scalp tingling closed over my bare arm again, she halted long enough to look up at me. "I'll have someone come in and fix your replicator shortly. When they do, you'll have access to whatever food selections you can find in our database."

I tried to muster enough humor to smile, but knew full well it was a sad excuse for one. "Decided you trust me enough not to replicate anything sinister, have you?"

She treated me to one of those low, husky laughs then that did absolutely nothing for the state of physical discomfort I was in, her fingers tightening ever so subtly over my skin. "No. But I think I've decided I _like_ you enough not to subject you to cold leftovers of whatever Neelix made for dinner."

Remembering "lunch", I grimaced in earnest, knowing I'd get away with it. And as we hadn't had time to eat anything this evening, neither one of us being hungry for food while we were working on locating the wormhole, if she hadn't thought of it, I'd have been left to the mercy of whatever leftover monstrosity that orange cretin had devised to torture the crew with this night. It was considerate of her. Surprisingly so, if I forced myself to look at the moment from her limited point of view, in which I'd just gravely offended her. Over kissing, of all god-forsaken things! But she _was_ offended. Deeply so.

And damn me for it, but I was grateful for her thoughtfulness. In spite of the rage, that was.

I nodded. "Thank you," I allowed, in response to her generosity. And surprisingly, meant it.

She returned a curt, perfunctory nod at complete odds with the lingering regret that flashed, unguarded, across her face and held up a warning finger, the devious light returning to her gaze. "I should caution you – if you do try and produce anything with that replicator other than food, my officers will be notified, and you'll be in the brig before you can complete the request."

She was joking. Mostly. I met her eyes. Scrutinized what I saw there. And decided that all was not yet lost, despite the grim outlook of just a moment ago. Not entirely lost. She was only spooked by my missteps.

I would make certain there were no more.

I decided to give convincing her to stay one last shot. "I'm not terribly fond of eating large meals just before bed. Can you recommend anything light?"

"Try the pasta soup – Neelix six five one. It might do the trick."

I smiled ruefully. "Is it safer than the Talaxian's _usual_ fare?"

Another chuckle, light and shallow. Almost rueful, and she took her hand from my arm with a shrug. "As long as _I'm_ not making it, you should be safe enough."

I could only quirk a brow at that, confused, bitterly frustrated that she wasn't taking the bait, weak as it was, and she didn't care to elaborate.

_But_, she was beginning to trust me. Regardless of what she said to the contrary. She would never have come here in the first place, otherwise. And she certainly wouldn't be allowing me replicator access. Monitoring or no.

I would work on it. Work on _her_. She _would_ be brought to heel before the necessary interval. Of course she would.

Her eyes softened as our gazes met for a final time. "Sleep well," she murmured, as she made her way a few steps closer to the door.

"And you," I returned automatically. Regretfully. Watching as she tapped her communications pin and disappeared from my room. My cell.

The life sagged out of me, briefly. It was as if the vacuum her disappearance created took with it my last vestiges of reason, of self restraint. My cheaply made civilian suit, taken from a telepath, chafed at the erection I would not fully lose until I achieved some form or release, whether by her – no longer an option – or by my own hand – also not an option, not being certain I wasn't being watched. Despite the optimism of a moment before, a snarl pulled at my lips. I would let her filthy _telepaths_ watch me…I would stoop to _that_ level only when I was long dead and preserved. Without thinking, I picked up the water glass, hurled it across the room. It did not shatter. Neither did the heavy pitcher I hefted next and threw after it. It simply poured water all over the floor it sailed over and the wall it struck as the lid came off and the contents exploded all over the point of impact, but the glass itself again remained unbroken. My rage spiked further at the lack of satisfaction. The chair I seized from across the sparse living area and chucked into the same wall made only slightly more noise, but it too, did not break, and finally, my fist struck the same wall and the pain of crunching my bones into solid, wet bulkhead was – barely – enough to vent the first wave of ire.

I shouldn't have wanted her the way that I did. I shouldn't have allowed my own body so far into the deception that I lost control of my responses. The _gaharay_ bitch was getting to me, in ways no other had, and my other fist struck the wall at the same time that a feral howl of fury escaped me.

She would pay for this loss of control, I decided, inspecting the broken skin of my left fist, which had struck the wall with the most force. For invoking it, for provoking it within me, I would be sure to repay her in kind. I would repay her tenfold, I decided, brought out of my rage only by that thought.

She would account for it, later. I had only to weather the next few days, or however long it would take to locate the next appearance of the wormhole. For now, I would wait. And continue playing the game.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Ten

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

That had been closer than I'd ever have liked. I'd only intended staying a few minutes. Letting…something…develop before breaking off and pleading timidity or uncertainty, or whatever other feminine privilege I had to invoke to get me out of that room. I hadn't pegged tonight for having to do much more than that until we'd been standing there, and the heat of his body, the crispness of his energy had warned me that might not be enough for him. I thought I had at least another day or so before I'd have to put more credits where my mouth was.

It hadn't been until we'd been standing so close, until I felt his hands on me that I'd fully realized how far I might have to go to convince him. And I _hadn't _been prepared for the visceral physical response of my body to the touch of his.

I hadn't been prepared for that part of it not to be as much of an act as I'd have liked it to be.

This was a deeper subterfuge than most I'd undertaken before in my entire career. One that was difficult to engage in and yet keep hold of myself at the same time. A shudder of thousands of things I didn't quite recognize pulling through me from head to toe, I wanted to sag back against the wall I materialized in front of, but instead of reappearing in my quarters to silence, and blessed solitude, I was greeted by the incongruous crouching form of…

"Chakotay," my voice croaked, betraying my dry throat. He was bent down by the table, beside the chair supporting my carelessly discarded jacket from earlier, and I swallowed as he paused whatever he was doing long enough to glance up in deep concern. That, more than his startling presence in my quarters, had me straightening and schooling my features automatically. "What's going on?" I demanded.

He looked grim. Tired. And weary. All of which I understood, and my cheeks colored at the tinge of sadness in his eyes, but that wasn't why he was here, as the tricorder he had in his hands informed me then. He held up a finger, indicating for me to wait, and my lips pursed in a deep frown. As I watched, he ran the tricorder up and down over the back of my jacket, zeroing in on a particular, shrill noise that kept sounding as he neared one spot in particular. He stopped as the noise became constant, having located the source of the sound and reading the tricorder's explanation for it. Meeting my eyes again as realization set in for both of us.

My stomach dropped, but I made sure my expression didn't.

"What is it?" I asked, though I had a fair enough idea already. His pointed glance at me, then over the room was telling, and I nodded in belated agreement. Whatever it was, we wanted to move to a more secure location…that was, a more obscure one…before discussing it. We still didn't trust our scans to be detailed enough to catch every single surveillance device, and there was really no doubting that the Devore had somehow planted them somewhere crucial on the ship. Kashyk simply knew too much to discount that possibility. We hadn't entirely ruled out my quarters, and we'd agreed not to discuss anything we didn't want overheard here, either. It was safer to have tactical discussions _anywhere_ but where we'd be expected to have them. I indicated the door with a jerk of my head. "Let's take a walk, Commander. I could use some fresh air."

Could I ever. I hoped the slight trembling of my legs wasn't evident to him as we walked together in silence, by unspoken agreement knowing roughly where we would be going this time, and it wouldn't be where we'd convened last time, earlier on in the evening. We also didn't want to make a habit of conferring in the same locations in the event that someone caught on to it.

We waited until we'd stepped out of the 'lift onto deck thirteen this time, meeting few people as we strolled the late night corridor before I felt safe enough to lean into him, whispering, "What was it?"

"A localizer," he murmured back.

I shook my head in disgust. _The underhanded son of a__–_

I'd taken my eyes off him at some point. He'd gotten past me, somehow. _It must have been in the mess hall._ That was the last time I'd been wearing it…

I'd already been prepared enough for this not to even acknowledge the hint of betrayal that suffused me. No, of course I hadn't trusted him as far as I could throw him. I sure as hell _wasn't_ surprised, and that damn well could never be a thrill of disappointment coursing through me now. I set my jaw at a tighter, more resolute angle, paying little attention to our actual destination. As we came up to the little alcove containing a hatch to the Jeffries tubes, he paused in front of the hatch doors with a significant glance as me, and I started, grasping what he intended.

And had to grin, albeit wryly. "Because _that_ won't look suspicious, will it? Us crawling in there together, alone, in the dead of night?"

He only laughed, the lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and raised his eyebrows, indicating the hatch again with a tilt of his head.

He was right. It was as good, as secure and unlikely a place as any. With a drawn-out sigh that made him chuckle again, I nodded, and allowed him to open the hatch and then crawled inside as he waited. Once he'd pulled himself in behind me and sealed the hatch behind himself, we took another scan of the interior, to be absolutely safe. Then he turned to me, arranging his legs in front of him as he tried to get comfortable in a cramped space not really meant for a man of his stature to crouch comfortably in, and when he looked up, it was with another wry smile.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he drawled tiredly.

I summoned a wan smile for his effort. "It was only a localizer? Not a surveillance device – you're _sure_? He couldn't have heard…?"

He shook his head. "No. But it's beyond anything we have. It's so miniscule, it's invisible to the naked eye. It's transmitting a simple signal, one we had to modify our tricorders to detect, but nothing complex enough to be able to transmit sound, or visual data."

"I didn't even _feel_ it," I groused, annoyed at myself for that. "I never even noticed him touching me…"

"He didn't do it while you were wearing it. And neither did we, the first time," I glanced up at him, confused, and he saw, adding, "notice it, that is." I relaxed. "Tuvok saw it a few minutes ago while reviewing the surveillance images." His voice was quiet. A little too quiet, but otherwise, he was all business, and it was reassuring, on the whole. "You weren't looking. You were over by the window when he brushed his hand over your jacket. At second glance, it was suspicious." He shook his head slightly, looking annoyed and faintly troubled now. "We need to do a better job of watching. If you hadn't left your jacket here before coming down the first time…"

I cringed, the thought having already occurred to me. "You're right. He'd know where I was meeting you."

Which in itself didn't mean much, if he couldn't get there to implant a surveillance device, but every ounce of secrecy we could maintain about our tactical precautions could prove crucial at some future point, and we both knew it.

"If it had been a surveillance device…" His eyes locked on mine.

"He'd have heard everything we said. _Damn_," I swore, slapping the deck next to my hip with semi-satisfying force. I was angry as hell now. At myself, more than anything. "That was too close."

"Should I remove it?"

The majority of me wanted to shout _yes_ for all I was worth, but that wasn't the wisest course of action and I knew it, so I shook my head. Restraining the impulse. "No. Leave it. He'll only try that much harder to replace it if we do, and it'll tip him off if we deactivate it."

"You're probably ri…" He went oddly rigid, trailing off with a strange, intense look crossing his face as he stared at me from across the relatively close confines long enough to make me uncomfortable. He seemed to be studying my appearance. My face. My hair, which only then felt as though it might still be tousled and I fought the impulse to smooth it with growing annoyance at _both_ of us.

"What?" I demanded…a little shortly, if I wanted to be honest.

I didn't. "Why are you staring at me like that?" I wanted to know.

"Did he touch you just now? While you were…in there with him?"

"I…"

My hesitation was more than enough. His expression darkened. "He did, didn't he?"

I was following him now. Hell. It should have been _my_ first thought. _Get it together, Kathryn._

"Yes," I admitted hoarsely, feeling another little flip of my stomach as the entire, sordid affair that had just played out in the visitor's quarters came back to me. "He did. A little." I felt the blood draining out of my face, despite the lack of logical reason for being embarrassed at all I'd just done in the name of safeguarding the ship in that room. More than a little sickened with myself, too, but that was beside the point entirely also. I cleared my throat, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. "You didn't…see?"

Somehow, I'd just assumed he would have, and I'd been forcing myself not to think about it while in that room. He's overprotective to the extreme sometimes, and I'd told him where I was going tonight. And why. I knew damned well he wasn't happy about it, either, and that was as touching as it was annoying. But he'd been refreshingly realistic about the whole thing, since I'd laid out my plan for him just a few hours ago, and that was a comfort, considering the way we'd started out this journey into Devore Space, and the disagreement we'd had to begin with. Now, I even felt a twinge of guilt for keeping him out of the loop with regard to those hideous chemicals, and for making the doctor do the same. And I seriously debated telling him, just blurting it all out but knew that if I did, he'd inform Tuvok faster than I could get the words out of my mouth, probably, and the two of them might have to be confined before letting me back into any room alone with Kashyk ever again.

_Hell. __**I **__should be confined for doing it, after all he's already proven himself capable of_, I allowed archly. Thinking of it, I could still feel his mouth on the side of my neck. Still smell the scent of his cologne in my hair, and the chills that passed through me then were hopefully as unnoticeable as they were inexplicable. But there was no time to dwell on anything that didn't expressly serve the mission, or the ship, and I shook myself out of it quickly enough.

Chakotay was shaking his head in answer to my question, had already shifted himself purposefully closer to me, tricorder out and ready. "No, I didn't watch. Tuvok made sure of your safety. Me watching would have been overkill." As he approached me with the tricorder, I instinctively wanted to back up, inexplicably feeling the inspector's hands on me again, his musk on me like a layer of…well, nothing nice. I wasn't sure that I wanted Chakotay becoming infected with it by proxy. I wanted to protect the rest of them, him, from the taint of what I'd just almost had to do, but that, too, was illogical, completely irrational, and there was absolutely no room for that kind of foolishness, so I shoved it aside with a firm mental rebuke to myself, swallowing softly and standing – rather, sitting – my ground as Chakotay approached. Knowing what he was after now, and approving the prudence of his actions, I allowed him to wave over me with the tricorder, to see if he'd…_Kashyk_…had done it again. If he'd used the opportunity I'd felt I had to present to him just now to further take advantage of my unfocused attention. I shifted around, to allow him to scan the back of me, too. But even as Chakotay waved over me a third time, moving up and down, from head to toe, there was no shrill sound emitted, and finally, he was satisfied.

"You're clean," he pronounced softly, decisively as he snapped the tricorder shut.

And again, the sensation that I _wasn't_ passed over me in a potent, tangible wave, but I forced myself to ignore it.

"Thank you."

We stared at each other. Uncomfortable, both of us, if the look in his eyes meant anything, and I began praying inwardly that he'd opt for a lighter path with this whole thing. It was about all I could take at this juncture, I thought. There was only so much tension a person could take, and Kashyk, the Devore were taking everything I had already.

The silence was the worst of all.

"Nothing happened in there," I more blurted out than informed him. I don't know what it was that fueled the unprompted admission, but it was the first thing out of my mouth for some reason. I could feel myself coloring at the piercing look he sent me and added, "Not…really."

He nodded then. Looking unsurprised.

And my eyes narrowed suspiciously at his almost non-reaction. "I thought you didn't watch?"

He smiled softly, undoubtedly amused at my unwillingness to let the discrepancy pass. "No, I didn't. But you were only gone about ten minutes."

Ah. I nodded, settling back against the curved walls and letting my head rest against the cool metal. Relieved. "Well I told you I was confident I'd find an excuse to leave." _Mostly confident, anyway._ I forced the chills back inside, where they wouldn't betray me with the physical manifestation of a shudder.

"And it only took ten minutes to find it?" He sounded impressed, and I opened one eye to slant a faint smirk at him.

"You should have more faith in me," I chastised mockingly. _No, he shouldn't, _that annoying inner voice, too vocal of late, chimed in.

"Faith in you, I have. Endless supplies of it, in fact." It was still warming to hear, inner voice aside. Especially to know he meant it. He settled himself against the back of his own wall, stretching his bent legs slightly out so that they rested in the downward curve of the bulkhead just beside me. "Faith in him…and in his self-restraint regarding you…I have none of, however."

There was nothing in his tone that sent off warning signals, and the frown dissipated from my lips as soon as it started forming. It was a fair enough assessment, I supposed, regarding him through tired eyes. Even if there was really no way for him to know how accurate a profile of Kashyk that really was.

Even if I'd made sure there was no way for him to know it.

"So what was it?" he asked, after another minute of silence extended out between us, and catching at my attention again. "What excuse did you use to get out of there?"

He wasn't even asking if Kashyk had tried anything. Either he knew, because Tuvok had told him – and I refused to permit the flush that wanted to form at the thought of how intimately we'd have appeared to be standing against each other – or he knew from my relatively subdued affect that _something_ had occurred. And he was affording me the chance to talk about it, which I _didn't_ want to do, but I _did_ want to reassure him, if possible, and I made myself level with him.

He deserved that much.

"He did try. And it was…intense for a few minutes," I admitted. More softly than was really warranted. "It was clear he wanted to…" I cleared my throat, "…well. But he wouldn't kiss me."

He sat up slightly straighter at the confession, and I knew I'd caught his full attention then.

"What? He wouldn't…?"

I shifted my feet, suddenly feeling the need to do that before forcing myself to meet his eyes. Working the muscles around the front of my mouth for some long seconds as I recognized the absurdity of the conversation we were having now. And finally couldn't draw it out any longer without making it more of an issue than it needed, really _deserved_ to be.

"He wouldn't kiss me," I repeated with a shrug.

"Okay." He swallowed. Digesting that for a moment. And then asked the natural, obvious question, "Why not?"

"Apparently," I felt my brow arching in disgust, "that isn't done with _gaharay_."

His eyes widened. He sucked in his breath through his teeth. "_Oh_," he allowed. And swallowed thickly. "I _see_," he nodded, and it was strangely reassuring that he found it as discordant as I had. As insulting.

"Exactly." I shrugged again. Frowning as I remembered the incredulity with which I'd processed Kashyk's weak explanation at the time.

"So?" he prompted. "How did you use that to get you out of there?"

"I pretended to be offended enough not to want to continue. It was easy enough to make him believe."

"I'm sure."

I looked at him sharply. He held my gaze, regarded me intently. His gaze just a little too penetrating. And then that full mouth of his quirked into a devious little smile. "And you're sure you _weren't_ offended?" he – mostly – teased. "I probably would have been." He cocked his head slightly, his eyes twinkling. "In fact, I think I'm a little offended _for_ you."

I debated hitting him. Because he was getting far too much pleasure out of pointing out the more-obvious-than-I'd-have-liked. But it was so much better than I'd have expected. That he was able to look at this objectively at all, given how close we are, and how much he distrusted, _hated_ Kashyk, and I relented. Gave into the wry humor he was effecting and even made myself be grateful for it.

"All right. Maybe I _was_. A _little_," I admitted, to his broadening smile. It was so good to see that smile. It had been too damned long, and I was once again aware of the lines creasing his face belying his utter exhaustion.

But I'd get to that in a minute, once I'd properly filled him in. "At any rate, since it was _his_ action that prompted my reaction, he really didn't have much choice but to blame himself for it when I pulled away from him, either."

He was all concern again. His voice going much quieter. "And how did he take that?"

I shook my head, dismissing his building concern. "About as I'd expected. He was angry when I changed my mind, and I don't think he could help showing it, either. But I played it off well enough to leave him with hope that he could make it up to me. Just…not right away," I was careful to add, for his benefit.

I saw the relief pass over him in a visible wave, watched some of the tension leak out of him and had to admit to feeling much the same way now that I thought about it. It really had been perfect, the way I'd twisted that whole thing to my own advantage, I decided now, upon closer review. If he hadn't given me that one foothold in the exchange…

But he had, and speculating about other possible outcomes was neither here nor there. What was important was that I'd left him in the proper frame of mind, hadn't raised his suspicions too much with my refusal. Speaking of which…

"Damn." The realization hit me, and I sat up straighter. "That reminds me. I have to send Harry in to fix Kashyk's replicator. I told him I would have it fixed tonight just before I left."

He didn't argue, understanding my reasoning immediately and grunting approvingly. "To reassure him that he's still earning your trust. Nice touch."

I nodded myself then, somewhat pleased that he'd noticed it, and knew exactly what I'd been doing. "Yes, I thought so, too. But I want that console monitored as closely as Kashyk himself. I want them to alert Tuvok the _second_ the panel is manipulated, or if he tries to program anything other than food."

"I'll let him know as soon as we get out of here."

"Thank you," I murmured. "I'd have asked Seven to do it, because I think she could probably make a few extra enhancements without Kashyk noticing, but I don't want to wake her from regenerating. You said she needed it," I reminded him, and he nodded.

"It's been a few days, according to the doctor," he furthered. "Harry's the next best to ask, and I think he's still up. I'll catch him on my way to Tuvok's office."

We'd left our communicators back in my room, and it wasn't wise to speak directly to the computer to ask it to hail Harry from here, because then the source of the call could be traced through the computer later. Just if, for instance, anyone happened to be looking for that sort of thing. And then I frowned, suddenly disgusted with the entire situation. "I wish to hell I knew whether all this precaution is warranted, or if we're just being paranoid," I grumbled, more to myself than to anyone else.

"I wish I did too. But we won't know that for a while yet." I glanced up at him just as he began to smile faintly. "I can only tell you which side of caution _I'd_ prefer to end up on when the chips are down and we figure out the answer to that question."

"Agreed," I sighed, surveying his tired, earnest face. "Chakotay. _You_ need rest. When was the last time _you_ 'regenerated'?"

He mustered a wan smile for my effort, scrubbing his hands over his face. "It'll keep. There's too much to do. We still haven't found those surveillance devices. And neither Tuvok nor I are any more convinced they're not here."

I was quiet for a moment. Considering. "I could just ask him."

"I thought you had."

"I did. When he first arrived…but I didn't press him. Maybe if I do…"

He shook his head. "If he was willing to tell you, he'd have done it already. Asking again is only going to make it obvious you know he's still lying."

"You're right." He was, and again, I was disappointed in myself. Shook my head, which only gave me a too-sharp reminder of how many cricks had accumulated in my neck over the past forty-eight hours. "I'm too tired for this kind of strategizing right now," I had to confess. "And we can't afford mistakes for fatigue any more than we can afford them for any other reason." I covered a yawn that bespoke the point and made myself start preparing my muscles for movement again, despite their aching protests. "Come on, Commander." I gestured to the closed hatch several meters down the tiny corridor from us. "We've both got work to do."

"Neelix still keeping the coffee on?" he asked – maybe not just teasing, either.

"He'd better be," was all I had to say to that.

* * *

"_I may not be able to join you this time."_

"_Try."_

He was gone.

As I stood, staring out into the open expanse of space framed by the shuttle bay doors, I still felt his lips on mine. I still tasted his breath, smelled his scent. I still felt his hands…

It was genuine. For both of us. We'd fallen so deeply into this game, the two of us, that I wasn't certain either one of us knew where the line was anymore. Where it _should_ have been.

Lying effectively is a thing best done when you can make a part of yourself believe your own lies. The danger in that is as obvious as it is inherent. And we'd both fallen prey to some part of our own deception. There was simply no arguing that anymore.

But he _was_ lying. He was going back to his warships, not to prepare for fooling them until _Voyager_ got to the wormhole, but to make sure that when we did, he would be prepared to take control of it. To use it, not to escape, but to persecute more innocent telepaths. To persecute _us_. My crew.

I knew it more certainly at that moment than I had in any other…

_I can't help it. It's my nature._

Chakotay's little anecdote about Seven's initial appearance was ringing in my ears, for some reason. Because it was Kashyk's nature to be who he was. What he was. He could no more change that about himself than I could let him do what he was intending. Not while there was still breath left in me, I couldn't, but, God help me, this was as intense, as draining a situation as any I'd come across in my entire career…

_So why do you feel more alive than you have in so long? Instead of drained and exhausted? _the inner voice wanted to know.

I didn't know the answer to that. It was as disconcerting as the question itself.

I still felt his lips on mine…

A hand was on my shoulder. Tentatively gentle at first. Then supportive, and firming. And despite my utter surprise at finding it there, the feel of it was too right to jump or be startled. He was behind me.

Where he always was.

"Kathryn."

His hand slid softly from my shoulder as I turned to look into concerned dark eyes, and in spite of that concern, I was compelled to smile at him.

Or maybe I had to smile _because_ of it.

"It's all right, Chakotay." I glanced down at the floor. Lowering my voice even further. "We're sure this bay is clear?"

He nodded, the concern lifting, to be replaced by expectation. Patient expectation.

"He's lying," I declared. More for Chakotay's sake than for my own.

He nodded softly. "We knew that." His brow furrowed, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then cocked a speculative brow as he studied me closely. Studied the slight twist of my lips at one side of my mouth. "Didn't we?"

"We had a good idea," I admitted. "But now I'm sure of it. He was using us to find the wormhole. Nothing more."

"But he doesn't know you've found it."

"No. Although he thinks I'm close enough that he's expecting me to work it out by the time he gets back." I shook my head, seeing in my mind exactly how this was going to play out. It was taking shape in front of me. Kashyk's plans. The way he would do this. "He's going back to bring his warships. We'll have to be ready to play our part. He'll have to believe that we believe _him_ until the last possible moment, or we don't have a prayer of pulling this off."

With my eyes locked on the floor and my mind racing, I barely noted the way he tugged at his ear, only faintly recognizing that he hated it when I was in this mode. My mind was too busy working this out to verbalize any of it just yet…

He was unable to wait in silence for long, however. "I take it you have a plan?" he broke tentatively into my thoughts.

"The ghost of one," I murmured, still considering. I grimaced, seeing the framework of what we had to do falling into place in theory. Seeing all the holes, the potentially deadly loose ends that would still need tying. "It's going to need a lot of planning. A lot of work, and the entire crew needs to know what's expected of them…"

"When do we start on it?"

Most of it had fallen into place. The details would need to be worked out as we went. I met his eyes. "_Now_," I stressed. "We don't have a second to waste. Kashyk will be back with those ships within hours."

He wanted to say something. If I knew him, probably to ask something. But he seemed to sense already that he wouldn't like the answers, or perhaps just that I wouldn't like the question, and we didn't have time for any kind of disagreement right now, either fundamental or superficial. There was no room for any of that, and I was proud of him as he realized that, as I saw him realize that, and then he straightened. Steel suffusing his voice, coating his posture before my eyes. As he became, in the blink of an eye, exactly what I needed him to be.

"Okay," he pronounced definitively. "Then walk with me. Tuvok's outside. We'll pick him up on the way."

I'd already stuffed my musings about my own strange reaction to Kashyk's leaving aside, my mind deep into the intricate machinations of our necessary deception. I curled my arm around the back of Chakotay's broad, familiar back and ushered him outside into the corridor, where Tuvok was waiting for us. Kashyk…I…no longer mattered. The safety of _Voyager_, and its forbidden cargo, was paramount.

But even as we walked, deep in conference, and the holes of our plan began to be plugged by the input of my two most trusted officers, friends, I was strangely, almost schizophrenically aware…

I could still feel his lips against mine.

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

I still felt her lips on mine.

_She IS mine_. I had decided. Probably well before then, but it wasn't until that moment in her shuttle bay that I'd consciously thought it. Of keeping her, for longer than a swift diversion aboard her own ship.

No one would begrudge me this.

After _Voyager_ was taken, I would demand leave to Devore Prime for at least six months. They wouldn't refuse. I hadn't had a vacation in over two years now, and the timing would be perfect. For maximum political capitol, I'd want to ride the wave of public approval where I would be most accessible to the adoring masses. And they _would_ adore; had I not already established how deviously charming I could be? The public already loved me. It helped that the emperor did, too.

Of course that was more Kathryn's weakness. For the most part, charm is wasted within our culture. So are the animals "compassion" and "selflessness". They exist, of course. But they are not at all desirable traits among my species, as they are for the Brenari and the Federation. What would impress my fellow Devorans was my ruthless efficiency, my superior strategy and strength. My success. Then, too, I was attractive. That always helps; universally, it seems. After all, it would help Kathryn to avoid the usual grim fate of _gaharay_ resistance leaders when I took her ship.

I'd decided to split up her crew into two parts; one on each of my ships. It would not do to allow such a resourceful people access to their own systems. My elite soldiers – eight, perhaps ten of my finest – would have first pick of the lot; I'd allow them this privilege. They might each choose one companion, to keep either at home or, for a period of one month, in quarters aboard ship. And Kathryn's crew was healthy; young, for the most part. The choice would be a difficult one, and the honored few would be the envy of the legion.

This is illegal, technically. It's considered a distraction to harbor non-military persons aboard warships. But no one would dare object to my generosity with a notch like that wormhole under my belt. The ship itself wouldn't create much of a stir, but it wouldn't hurt anything, what with its Borg circuitry. And the gesture toward my men would buy some much-needed loyalty from the chosen few. I should have to take care to choose well when doling out rewards…

The telepaths would go immediately to a relocation center, along with the rest of the crew, save for a few more special exceptions. Already, I'd arranged the private sale of the Klingon engineer and that hologram/doctor. The two were skilled enough in their respective sciences to be worth a small fortune apiece...and perhaps the Borg drone would fetch a handsome price also. _Would she ever!_ I smiled to myself, thinking of her stature. Her deliciously apparent build in that cat suit they paraded her around in. Even if I couldn't find a scientist interested enough in her Borg components to pay top price, her _other_ attributes would sell quite nicely…_yes_, I decided. The drone would be added to the short list, as well.

By all logical dictates, I should have considered selling Kathryn also. She _was_ a brilliant scientist, after all. It would be her intelligence which finally found the Brenari wormhole. And, oh, how heavily that would weigh on her delicate conscience! The thought tickled me, albeit perversely. Adding to this the unusualness of her captaincy of _Voyager_, her strange attractiveness, and she had more than enough appeal for the black market as a rare commodity. Perhaps I would sell her when I grew tired of her. My eyes narrowed in thought. _I'll think on it_, I mused._ But that will take a very long time, I think..._

Prax would hate the alteration of records necessary to hide my profit-making enterprises.

Prax was beginning to concern me – to hell with that, he was beginning to _enrage_ me with his snide comments and the way he exchanged furtive glances with some of my less supportive men. A nasty suspicion formed in the back of my head, lurking. _Is he plotting against me?_ I stared at him through the narrowed corner of my eye. He was lost in some report or another, his thick balding head bent over his station...On the surface, I wanted to say the idea was patently absurd. Prax had never shown any hint of ambition before…but, then again…

_I don't want to deal with this right now, I was in the middle of a perfectly good fantasy..._

I knew she'd fallen for me; her reaction to my kiss told me everything I needed to know. I knew by then precisely what I needed to do, which action would lead me to sealing her faith in me, and, frustrating days (and nights!) aside, I had set it up perfectly. My instincts had been correct, and she had practically melted into me immediately. And I'd even reigned myself in, frustrated as hell by then as I was, and had been disgustingly gentle with her, non-threatening to a fault.

I am not a gentle man while in the throes of passion. It's the last adjective used to describe me under the lull of that condition, as any of my previous conquests would readily confirm. But tonight in her shuttle bay, while preparing my ship for launch... I felt I had to temper my naturally violent tendencies. By all indications, humans found passion in the preliminaries. In the little niceties of sex that were usually little more than afterthoughts for me. I had not truly taken note of them, but Kathryn's initial, overstated reaction to my demurral when she attempted to kiss me that first night showed me my error. And, after all, it was Kathryn's pleasure that mattered if I wanted to fool her...

A strange, very alien concept, that. Focusing on that side of the usually one-sided equation. Yet it seemed I'd erred once more on the side of caution. It was _she_ who demanded more from the exchange, a fact which delighted me upon reflection, though it unsettled me at the time.

No woman had ever done that to me before. No woman had ever been that…_secure_ within my presence. But of course it was the role I was playing that reassured her enough to give her the confidence…

Even as I had that thought, the next was that it might not be true. Kathryn might have had the confidence to do so even if I hadn't pretended to defect, and to give myself over to her mercy...

Unsettling…yes. That was the best word to describe it.

I only knew it was the last time we'd be together that way, the last time I'd stand before her as simply "Kashyk". And while I stood there, having to leave her, knowing I had to leave, I felt a wave of true regret for what I was doing. Sometime during the past few days – had it really been only a few days I languished in isolation under her control on that vessel? Strange. It had come to feel like another lifetime. But sometime during that enchanted period…

Kathryn had become real to me. I'd played the game too well. For an instant, at least, I no longer regarded her as an object for my pleasure or a tool to be used and discarded. She was a woman and a near equal. A soon to be lover. I wanted her to _give_ herself to me, and I wanted to give myself to her in return as much as I wanted to take her.

It was the first and only time that ever happened to me. As I gazed down at her, wanting to leave and yet not wanting it, I told myself I had to do it. I had to do this one last thing and prove to her that I was sincere; prove that she could trust me and that I was really the gentle man I'd been pretending to be.

It was a lie. I saw that now. Because, for just a few moments in the continuum of time, I _was_ that man. A gentle man who'd fallen head over heels in love with Kathryn Janeway. It no longer mattered that she was _gaharay_, so the act I contemplated was no longer taboo.I grabbed her, lowered my lips to hers…and the immediate intensity of electric sensation almost consumed me utterly. I pulled back instantly, not from any conscious decision to do so, but I think in automatic self-defense.

But she grabbed me, stepped into me, brought her lips back to me. Suddenly, it seemed I was drowning in her and she was everywhere: everything I knew. Her scent was all I could distinguish, all I could feel was the thrill of her small hand running through my hair, her soft body melting into mine.

I felt my jaw twitching. Working back and forth in my shame. Glancing about my control room, I was considerably relieved to see no one looking in my direction...

_It's really silly of me to have such self-doubt_, I swiftly reassured myself._ Obviously, I merely threw myself into the role a little too well, and had begun to convince even__myself of my sincerity. _

It was utter madness, the thoughts that swirled in my mind in those moments, and I knew it. No one woman, no matter how compelling, was worth a man's career or his principles. Certainly no _gaharay_ woman. I broke away from her, barely able to maintain my defector persona and simply kissed her hand, her palm. I looked into her eyes and told myself I saw love there, trust and desire and love. And regret that she had to allow me to sacrifice myself to save her ship. In that instant I came back to myself, and I wanted to fuck her with as much intensity as I had wanted to make love to her seconds before. I was enraged that she had touched me at all, and I wanted to make her pay for it. I wanted to slam her against the wall and hurt her, break her. I wanted...

To be entirely honest, I didn't really know _what_ I wanted. That, also, is something that has never happened to me. But I had a pretense to maintain, and I knew there'd be time later. So I left.

_I'll make her pay dearly for that moment of uncertainty_, I decided now. I was already thinking of several ways I was going to make her sorry...perhaps even to beg for forgiveness. That thought brought the beginnings of a smile to my face at last.

In fact, I grinned, leaning back into my leather chair and recalling the longing look on her alien face…the way her soft fingers teased the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck and toyed with my hair...

I'd been worried. That rarely happens, yet after her refusal to accept my invitation the second night, despite the progress I thought I'd made, and her obvious trust in letting me in on the workings of that wormhole formula…which, as a matter of point, I had memorized in the event that she did not allow me to see future steps…but I didn't think I'd fooled her. At least…I wasn't entirely secure. But then, she'd practically begged me to stay when I told her I had to leave.

I knew then I had her. Kissing her had been a calculated risk. I'd only wanted a bit of insurance, before leaving. Oh, and she gave it. Would have given even more if I'd pressed onward. I was sure of it, now.

I would kiss her again, here, where I was in complete control. She would never give me what she might have then, but with her entire crew essentially under my control – or so I would lead her to believe – she would be brought to heel quite nicely. I was already looking forward to the untold delights that awaited me under that blasted uniform of hers. I would not tire of her quickly. No, not quickly. I'd already waited far too long. But I would have to take care to ensure that our differences did not adversely affect her. From what I'd seen of their medical data, from studying the species, special attention might have to be given to ensure no significant damage was done to her. At least not while I cared to keep and maintain her in relatively good condition.

Too, there was no need to be unnecessarily cruel. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair at making the concession in my mind. It wasn't as if it was _her_ fault she could not best me in a game of strategy. She'd played the game admirably well, for a _gaharay_…and for a woman, no less. I would not deliberately inflict undue suffering upon her for that fault of inferiority alone.

It wouldn't quite be…_fair_, I frowned to myself.

I would look into that, prepare for it. There should be simple enough methods with which to compensate for the size difference. Perhaps I would do so even before disembarking for _Voyager_. After all, I would not want to wait very long, once I had her, to explore all she had to offer…

Yes. I'd see to it in a while, when I made the trip to my chambers to prepare myself for our final meeting. In the meantime…there was perfectly good fantasizing I'd been in the middle of, wasn't there?

Yes.

I'd take her to my primary residence at home, I decided. It's the largest of my five homes and lies just outside the capital city's limits. It's also the most beautifully constructed building for many kilometers. Tamark-har Residence was my wife's bonding price and given to me by her father, one of the most influential senators on the Council. This is where she and our children live primarily. _Yes, Tamark-har is impressive enough to take Kathryn to. Worthy enough to hold her._ My wife would object most certainly to my bringing Kathryn there. She always does whenever I've brought home something new and unique to enjoy. I'd endure her pugnacious attitude for a while. But I'd most likely lose my patience and end up beating her within a week, as always, and send her away to Banhor Residence. She hated it there, and a few months' banishment in the dreary and isolated climate always brought her nicely enough to heel.

_Kathryn will appreciate Tamark-har_, I decided. Satisfied with my decision. _She appreciates beautiful things, as I can when I have the time._ I would have plenty of that, when this was finished between us.

I fixed my eyes to the view screen. Pleased to note that we were almost to the ship. It wouldn't be long now. In just under a few hours, I was going to have everything I could ever hope for – and more. The single, solitary little thought that was the only thing to mar my contented musings was how…

I could still feel her lips against mine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** See prologue

Chapter Eleven

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

We barely made it in time for Kashyk's war ships to show up. And he did exactly as she said he would, right down to the selection of music he played, and I wondered if they'd worked that out between them or if she'd just come to know him _that_ well over the few days he'd been staying here.

I preferred to believe she was just that good at this.

Gods, was she good at this. It might not have been until this moment, as he summoned her to her ready room and she went with a faint, wry smile, as if she was actually…._enjoying herself_…that I realize just how _damn_ good she is at this. In the Maquis, I had to be good at it, too. Most of that kind of work involves subterfuge very much like this. To amass the proper contacts, to gain the right intelligence to put what little resources the Maquis had to best use…I'd thought I was good. According to all the appropriate files I've since had opportunity to peruse, Starfleet thought so, too.

And it always had been just slightly insulting to me that she'd been sent out after me, a green captain with the polish still gleaming fresh on the fourth pip instead of someone more seasoned. More…weathered, so to speak. Not that I hadn't gained the utmost respect for her. Because I had. But this kind of work…I hadn't really thought it her specialty, somehow.

It was only now that I thought I fully understood some of the reasoning behind them sending her after me four and half years ago, instead of anyone else, and as she squared her shoulders and marched to her ready room, head high and confident, I had to take a deep inward breath. She had worked this out down to the very last of the nitty gritty details. Kashyk might take the ship, but he wouldn't find it the easy pickings his smug voice over the comm. indicated he thought it would be.

Prax came sweeping onto the bridge seconds later, his soldiers with their guns out and ready, and my gut clenched tightly, but that was all. My face remained stoic, impassive as he gestured to the turbolift. _Not_ to the front of the bridge.

"Everyone line up in front of the turbolift," he barked immediately.

My stomach jolted, but only slightly. We'd been expecting this, too. Were prepared. But to have it actually come to fruition was of course another matter entirely. My eyes snapped unwittingly to the ready room, but I caught myself. Making sure to nod reassuringly to the rest of them, indicating that the bridge crew should comply with the Devore Lieutenant's orders, and it was only then that they began moving.

"What?" Tom drawled, getting slowly to his feet. "No scans today?"

I shot him a sharp glance, ready to back him down, but Prax didn't react with anything but gleaming malice. Tolerantly amused, for once.

"No," he smirked. "This vessel has been found to be in violation of Codicils six twenty-six, four forty-seven, one ninety, subsections a through f, and the entirety of imperatives ten, twelve, and thirty-one. We are confiscating your ship, and you will all be delivered to a detention center shortly. In the interim, all of you will be taking a walk down to your Cargo Bay Two."

That had been quick.

No one among us even bothered to ask what had happened to our right to a fair trial before conviction. Or what those codicils translated to in words.

Tom looked entirely unaffected. "So…we don't get any _scans_, is what you're telling us." He shook his head. Locking eyes with me and ostensibly shooting a subtle glance to the ready room doors. _The captain_, his look clearly said. _What about her?_ He was stalling for time, I realized, but he'd turned back to Prax before I could say or do anything. "Damn. Because it's been…what? A whole week?" He looked around at the rest of the bridge crew for confirmation before addressing the hulking lieutenant. "Are you sure you don't need to scan us again, just to be safe? Who knows what kind of telepathic lesions could have developed in our brains in that period of time?"

Damn. We hadn't discussed with even the rest of the senior officers all of the various safeguards we'd put into place for this eventuality, several key components of which would serve chiefly to protect Kathryn, though they had been mostly Tuvok's and my doing.

Tom was worried about leaving her up here, especially so not knowing all that was in place to support her. I tried to send him a reassuring shake of my head, to warn him off before he could really piss off the insufferable Prax, but too late.

Realizing he was being mocked, Prax's face turned a shade of crimson, and he motioned toward his men. His soldiers instantly melted out of their hard line to surreptitiously surround us all, encouraging faster motions. "Move," he growled, hefting his weapon in Tom's direction. "_Now_."

Tom mercifully held up his hands in supplication, rolling his eyes but dropping off into silence, and I was spared having to intervene on his behalf. I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed with him for it; it had been for a good, unselfish cause, and the snickers from the science station while he'd been taunting the Devore had affirmed that his borderline antics were, as usual, a pressure valve for the rest of them.

And if Tom had proven nothing else with his caustic little speech, it was that Prax was in a tolerant mood today. I used it to full advantage, playing my part exactly as Kathryn had requested of me and stopping just before being herded into the lift. When Prax swung his phaser canon in my direction, I only stared hard at him, and jerked my head to the right in indication. "You don't expect us to leave without our captain," I stated. Knowing, even as I spoke, what his response would be…

He snorted. "Don't worry. Your captain is under the inspector's protection now. She's quite…_safe_…up here with him." But his tone, his smirking face, delivered the opposite message, and his grin was as ugly a sight as any I'd ever hoped to see in my lifetime.

I stared back at him, unflinching. _She's a hell of lot safer than you think she is, _was the only thought that kept me calm and able to stare him down in the face of his unspoken taunts. I ignored the tightness in my gut warning me, screaming that it was just as possible, no matter how good she really was at this, that Kashyk was better.

That he could still win.

But I kept my calm, needing to be an example for the others, and allowed myself to be shoved into the small space without further protest.

They herded us into the lift in groups of four, Tom, Tuvok and I being in the first group, as well as Callahan, who happened to be standing closest, and at the look of utter and purest contempt the Devore soldier shot Tuvok, it was clear that he knew who…_what_ Tuvok was.

Tuvok only stared back at him, implacable, as always, as two of the guards stepped menacingly into the lift in front of us, their weapons poised and ready for the slightest sign of resistance from us. It might be stupid for them to discharge them in such a confined space and risk hitting themselves, but their message was clear enough. They'd risk that before risking allowing us to gain the upper hand.

We could have taken them. But the benefit in taking two of them…and alerting the rest of them to our resistance…was nil. I held myself stock still and stony-faced, indicating to the rest of them to copy my behavior.

Before the doors closed, I locked eyes with Sam Wildman, who was still waiting on the bridge, presumably to be taken down with the second shift, and I sent her as much calm, silent support as I could. The faintest of smiles played on her lips, and her head was high and proud, and that was enough to reassure me that the rest of them would be all right until we were reunited…that they had faith, at least, that Kathryn, the senior staff and I had a handle on the situation, despite outward appearances.

And as the doors began to slide shut behind the two Devore guards, I resisted a final, lingering glance at the sealed ready room doors.

_She's damn good at this_, I told myself again, grimly, to quell the lingering lions of doubt that were nonetheless clawing, trying to tear their way out of my gut.

* * *

_**Janeway**_

_**

* * *

**_

It's over.

_I sagged inwardly in relief, the tight cords of tension severing at Kashyk's harsh words to his lieutenant. I dropped back in my chair like some macabre version of a marionette whose supportive strings had been cut without warning. Still, I held my ground, my expression wryly, unabashedly triumphant._

"_Well played, Captain," he acknowledged grudgingly, the moment we were alone on the bridge. What was actually graciously, considering the circumstances… "It seems I never did earn your trust," he realized aloud._

"_I had to take a few precautions…you understand?"_

_The smile he gave me was almost sad. Certainly not triumphant. "Better than anyone," he conceded._

_The moment was strangely bittersweet. Nothing like I had expected, and I didn't understand why. And I felt the need to tell him, "I never lied to you, you know." At least not about anything important. "My offer to take you with us was genuine. And it would still stand if you'd kept your part of the bargain."_

_He grunted softly. A rueful sound more than anything. "For what it's worth…" his eyes met mine, and there were any number of emotions playing behind their usually cocky veneer. "You made a tempting offer."_

_We stared at each other. For an entire eternity. _

I have trouble recalling now, days later, when exactly he arose. I can only remember having watched him, having been…almost shocked that he was leaving, somehow. And realizing it would be the last moment that I saw him. Ever.

But he let us go. I hadn't even bargained on that. I'd been prepared for one hard attempt at negotiation, a heck of a verbal battle, and then one hell of a physical fight, if necessary. I'd never actually expected he'd just–

"Captain."

His voice was almost like a pail of coolant thrown over me, and realizing that I'd been drifting off in thought again, I started, sitting straight up in my chair as Chakotay's eyes came into narrowing focus across the table.

"You still with us?" he teased, and it was then I realized I was the center of focus of the entire breakfast table, and I cringed.

A hint of color suffused my cheeks, and I felt it in a small wave of heat. I'd have liked to have given myself a good swift kick in the behind at that instant, as I came to realize I'd been doing it again: thinking about him and the circumstances of his abrupt departure. Even now, nearly a week later, I was still stuck on it, when I should have been celebrating the fact that we hadn't heard from him, from _any_ of the Devore, and that we only had about seven days left in this God-forsaken region of space until we cleared it.

And there was no sign of any Devore war ships, anywhere. It seemed we'd been left in peace after our last showdown with Kashyk. A showdown which we'd won. We were only short two shuttles and a good month's worth of missing sleep for the entire ordeal. Give or take a few chemical tortures, I added belatedly, darkly to the end of that short list.

Even so, there was damned sure exactly _zero_ room for disappointment over how it had all played out.

The whole table was staring at me.

Clearing my throat, I muttered, "Sorry." I straightened more in my seat, waving off the mostly amused, faintly concerned glances being shot at me from all around the table and shrugged, smiling wryly. "I drifted off for a moment. You were saying about the holodeck, Tom?"

The looks exchanged between he and B'Elanna, their grins of amusement, warned me that I'd not hit that particular nail as close to the head as I'd have liked.

"Uh…we'd moved on to the 'Post Devore' party Neelix wants to throw, Captain," Paris informed me, his tone a decided teasing lilt.

"Yeah…about twenty _minutes_ ago," B'Elanna snorted, but she was gentle enough in her correction that I didn't take it personally.

Much.

At least it wasn't the sharp resentment I'd grown accustomed to watching her struggle to hide lately.

The color returned to my cheeks, and I caught Chakotay peering at me more closely. I cleared my throat, taking another sip of (now cold) coffee to give myself a second to steady my response. "All right…_more_ than a few minutes," I allowed after swallowing. "I guess I'm just in need of a good night's sleep or two," I shrugged lightly to dispel the continuing stares and turned my attention to the chef in question. "A party sounds like a wonderful idea, Neelix. I don't want to count my chickens before they hatch," I saw Chakotay's smile appear from the corner of my eye, "but I'd say we definitely have cause for celebration, once we're clear of Devore Territory."

Tom coughed delicately, then broke out laughing as B'Elanna snorted again, and not discreetly, either. I raised an eyebrow in their direction, encouraging them to share with the rest of us the source of their amusement.

Tom got the hint, sitting up a little higher in his seat but losing none of the unapologetic grin on his face. "That's…well…it's uh…a hell of an understatement, if you don't mind me saying, Captain."

I did, actually. But I didn't quite know why. And I didn't want to acknowledge it, either aloud or to myself, and forced the smile to stretch my face in spite of it, turning away from the pair of them.

"It's a wonderful idea, Neelix," I echoed my sentiment of before. Intent on redirecting the focus of the table to someone – _anyone_ – other than myself before one of my oh-so-well-meaning, pain-in-the-ass senior officers could take it upon themselves to start asking questions, or further exploring the true source of my apparently newly developed attention deficit disorder. I leaned into my unwitting victim, a certain spotted Talaxian who was by far the easiest target at the table. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about what you'd planned?"

He never did need much prompting, and I took a second to silently bless him for his predictable, dear little Talaxian ego. Neelix's immediate, exuberant descent into explanation of his grand plans was mercifully enough to get me through the rest of breakfast without anyone noticing my own lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

Or so I hoped, at any rate.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

She left before the rest of us, claiming an urgent appointment that didn't exist. Which I knew, because I'm typically the one that runs through her schedule and weeds out all the unnecessary crew requests – the usual myriad of them that either Tuvok or I are perfectly equipped to handle. I had thought she was at least fooling the rest of them, but in retrospect, I guess I shouldn't have been so arrogant as to not know better. Soft but solid footfalls fell into tentative step beside me as I, too, headed up for the bridge.

"So…I'm going to go out on a limb here…" was the first thing out of his mouth the moment we stepped foot in the corridor outside of the mess hall.

I waited, still walking and containing my annoyance. Giving him nothing to work with. Hoping he'd lose the balls to mention it and already figuring he wouldn't. He's too damned annoying for that.

"…And say there's something bothering her."

"Unless you're referring to B'Elanna, Tom, I don't know what you're talking about," I returned evenly, keeping my eyes ahead of me, focused on my destination.

He had the good grace to wince, and I caught it with too much satisfaction out of the corner of my eye. He knew what I was talking about, and it wasn't exactly fair to bring up B'Elanna's lingering little…attitude…regarding Kathryn and everything that had transpired between them recently, but frankly, there was still too much on my mind to bother feeling guilty over it, either.

It didn't stop him anyway. He only returned, the slight gritting of his teeth evident in his voice, "Yeah, you do. No way in hell you missed her little fazing out of reality routine in there – you're the one that brought her out of it!"

Damn. I had, at that. And of course Tom had picked up on that little detail. I sighed inwardly.

"And it's not just this morning. She's walking around like the living dead for the past week."

"You heard her, Tom. She's tired. It's not a crime, and it's hardly unusual out here." I paused, breaking stride long enough to send him a pointed look. "You don't look particularly well rested yourself, and I know I sure as hell don't either."

The doctor was harping over it like an old woman, in fact. It was probably at least a part of what had me in such a foul mood today.

He stopped to stand beside me. Debating continuing, from the look on his face. And finally sighed, seeming to see he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Fine. Whatever. I was just making sure there was no cause for concern or anything."

"There isn't," I affirmed, stepping into the turbolift as the doors parted for us upon sensing our presence. "Bridge," I called, and the compliant chirrup of the computer signaled the end to the conversation.

In an ideal universe, anyway.

He turned to me. "Because…if there _was_ cause for concern…" I shifted to face him with a huff of pure exasperation this time, but he took it completely in stride, continuing, "for _any_ reason…you'd be there for her anyway. _Wouldn't_ you?" he pressed pointedly.

I wanted to hit him by that point. I occasionally end conversations with him that way, even still, at least on some tiny, mostly repressed level, but that particular moment, the urge was about as strong as it had been the day Kathryn had stepped between us on the bridge all those years ago. But I held back. Because my ire was entirely unwarranted.

He was only making sure she was all right. And I couldn't even argue she hadn't been giving him reason to doubt it with the way she'd been this week. Distant. Distracted. Almost depressed seeming, at least in moments when she thought no one was looking. Given her condition of a few months ago…I nodded. Less curtly than I was inclined to initially.

"Yes, Paris. If there was any cause for concern, I would be. There isn't."

_There might be. But I'll be handling it. The rest of them don't need to be worrying about her, too, _I added silently. That was the last thing the rest of them needed to be worrying about right now.

He stared at me for another moment. Making sure of the truth of my words, and I endured it with utmost forced patience until he relaxed, draping his arms behind his back and facing front with a little nod of his own. "Okay, then. That's all I needed to know."

"Glad I could help you out this morning," I growled sarcastically…even if there was no real bite to it. He ignored me, all but impervious as the 'lift doors opened up to the busy bridge, and I moved to step out of the cramped space and take my post.

"Hey."

_Damn it, Paris, I'm really not in the mood for this today_, my exasperated look warned him as I spun to face him, but he ignored that too.

He actually leaned into me. "A couple of us are getting together to go skiing tonight on the holodeck. I'm not sure she…or you…heard. See if you can get her there. We'd love to see her."

If I'm honest…what annoys me most about him is probably what an upstanding man he's turned out to be in spite of my opinion of him. And when I have to admit it even to myself…much less, him…

I sighed. Raising a doubting eyebrow. "And that 'we' actually includes B'Elanna, does it?"

He exhaled sharply, looking around to make sure no one had heard me, but I'd already made sure no one had. I wouldn't go spreading anything like that around to the rest of the crew under any circumstances, annoyance with him or B'Elanna or not.

Seeing that I hadn't, he nodded, relaxing slightly. "Yeah. That includes her – not that she'd admit it. She's coming around, Chakotay. Cut her some slack, will you?" he defended her automatically. "It was a lot to forgive. You know how deeply she was against that treatment."

I did know. And knowing – in spite of how much I may tend to _want_ to dislike him – how much his motives were essentially pure with regard to both Kathryn and B'Elanna, at least, I gave him another…softer…nod. "Yes. I know. So does the captain. Not that she'd admit it." I sighed again, deeper, needing to break up this little sideshow before anyone but Ayala started to stare and conceded, "I'll do my best to get her there. But I can't make any promises."

"That's all I ask," he muttered as Kathryn came walking out onto the bridge, and he left for his seat.

I shook my head slightly, clearing it. It was going to be yet another long day of waiting. And hopefully, I'd be able to catch Kathryn at some point in the day and see if she finally wanted to open up about whatever it was that was bothering her. If I was completely honest with myself, I already had a good idea of what it was, anyway.

I just hoped to hell I was wrong, but I was confident that I'd be able to work it out of her later on that day.

I never got the chance.

* * *

_**Kathryn**_

_**

* * *

**_

If I'd claimed to be surprised to receive a last incoming transmission from Kashyk less than a few days before clearing Devore Space…I'd have been lying. His request to meet with me one last time…alone…had all but had World War IV erupting about my ship, true…but it had been no surprise.

Not really. He was too intelligent, too focused. Too much of a ruthless bastard not to have tried to take the information he'd _thought_ he'd gathered while undercover aboard _Voyager_ and use it to try and figure out how, when and where that wormhole would open again.

And once he'd begun working, truly working at it…he did have the knowledge to realize that he'd been fooled – again. To realize he'd never seen any of the information Torat had provided us with and that he'd left with nothing. He wasn't happy about that fact, I gathered from his smoldering demeanor over the comm. channel as he snarled that I could either meet him on his vessel…or he would come with his teams to _Voyager_. It had been an unveiled threat, one I wouldn't take the chance of calling him on, and he knew it. Pride wouldn't let him back down, however. He was too desperate to find that wormhole if he possibly could.

It didn't surprise me that he was arrogant enough to believe he could threaten me over to his ship. In fact, he had succeeded in that much. But the rest of what he intended by summoning me to his vessel for a final, "friendly chat"…that part, I was prepared for.

The fact that he wasn't there to greet me personally was something of a red flag, and it did sent bolts of unease running up and down my spine, but that only caused me to lock it tighter into place. To tilt my head even higher. The two soldiers that greeted me at the edge of the transporter platform – not the insufferable Prax, either of them, I noted with one eyebrow climbing in speculation – didn't allow me to keep the phaser, either, but demanded it at weapons' point.

No way in hell I was giving up my only defense _that_ easily. Cocking my head just barely to one side, I gauged the level of their commitment to the notion, allowed my challenging stare to work over them, letting it penetrate through them, but only the younger of the two even so much as shifted under my glare. The older, darker haired soldier simply gestured sharply with his weapon, indicating a no-tolerance stance on allowing me to keep the phaser. He wasn't going to back down, I saw. Finally, with an annoyed roll of my shoulders and only a small working of my tongue against my cheek, I slowly…with deliberate, exaggerated slowness…reached across myself with my right hand, removing the phaser with the tips of my fingers and held it out for the younger guard to promptly and smugly confiscate. I stood stock still and rigid, my eyes locked dead ahead of me while the older one moved forward, scanning me with his blasted device, which I'd come to hate as much as I did the Devore uniform. Ensuring that I had no other side arms concealed anywhere on my person. He was thorough about it, too. Too thorough. Just as I was growing decidedly impatient with his thoroughness, he straightened, holstering his scanner with a nod of satisfaction and then assuming his too-familiar military stance.

"The inspector wants us to escort you to his private chambers," he announced coldly, clearly as unimpressed with that particular choice of locale as I was.

I raised the same eyebrow

again, again in challenge. But he showed no more reaction to the statement other than that initial display of distaste, and I swallowed my contempt for the soldier, his attitude and his inspector with practiced enough endurance. And shrugged. "Well. Then by all means," I murmured archly, "let's not keep the inspector waiting." I gestured in front of me, to the heavy doors I assumed must lead out into the corridor. "Lead the way, gentlemen."

Kashyk's ship was…really about as I'd expected. Sleekly built. Powerfully reinforced. Very little attention paid to aesthetics, but the one thing I did find surprising was how much that Spartan lack of attention to appearance actually served to enhance its beauty. His corridors were boxy. Plain, almost unfinished, but the black metal alloy lining the unfinished silver grating created dark, concentric circles with bold arches overhead that ran rings around every ten paces or so. Giving the entire section of the corridor a rather artistic, if militaristic, aura.

Also surprising was just how short the walk was. Kashyk's private chambers were clearly designed to be near the transporter room, and I found myself wondering if his bridge, or whatever he called his command center, was nearby also. I assumed it must be…

The doors parted only at his response to their call, and when the black doors slid apart, I stepped inside with only the briefest of pauses. Kashyk was waiting, at a large, gleaming black desk that spread out in front of his seated form like a buffer of power, and as my eyes passed over him, I thought his expression strange as hell.

"Inspector," I greeted him coolly. What sounded cool, at any rate, and considering the way my heart was racing in anticipation of what his demands were going to be now that I'd come, at his command, I'd take it.

He didn't reply right away. And the soldiers did not enter behind me, as I'd half expected them to, but waited to be dismissed before leaving me here, alone with…him. And very briefly, it occurred to me that being left in this room alone with him, on his ship and without even my phaser now was patently unwise, but I'd been left with no choice. There was really no time to debate the situation, or my position. Besides, I'd made the choice to come here, and I'd accepted any possible consequences of that decision before I'd left _Voyager_, I reminded myself silently.

"You may go," was his quiet dismissal. But he never once looked at them, though his words were seemingly for them. His dark, oddly gleaming eyes were fastened, from the moment of my arrival, to me and only to me as he slowly rose, taking in…possibly drinking in, if it wasn't too poetically licensing of me to think it…the sight of me.

I didn't think I was doing the same, though. No. My stare was more of wary…expectation, I decided. And I took a single, calculated step forward as I broke the silence…mostly to break the mounting intensity building in the air around us.

"I'm here, Kashyk," I declared. Spreading my arms in demonstration before dropping them back to my sides. "And I came alone. As you insisted."

"Yes." His smile was soft, but he made no move to come around the desk and approach me, nor to move otherwise. "You did."

He wasted no effort elaborating, and realizing he wasn't going to, I inclined my head forward a single, deliberate increment. "So tell me what it is you want from me," I demanded. Now managing to keep my heart rate steady with the aid of deep and even breaths.

He scoffed, but with no real malice in his mannerisms. No malice, just…intensity. And I felt a small shiver running through me that I didn't allow to show as he replied, "What I want…from…you." He shook his head slowly, the smile widening, turning wicked. "So many things, Kathryn. If only we had either the time or the luxury to explore them all."

He was flirting. Again. It would have relaxed me – if that damned, intense stare of his wasn't beginning to set off warning bells in my brain, that was. I waited, watching him take his cup, observing as he brought it up to his lips for a deep swallow before setting it back on the table. "Would you like some?" he asked, out of nowhere. Politely, at that, but I brushed it aside automatically. Even as I wanted to kick myself as I realized what had prompted the offer.

Damn. He'd noticed me watching him.

Of course he had.

I shook my head. "No. Thank you." God only knew what he might put in it. Not knowing what he wanted with me now…at least not for certain…neither Tuvok nor Chakotay would forgive me if I was stupid enough to accept that drink, and it'd be a cold day in hell when I forgave _myself_ that kind of stupidity either. I felt my hands going to my hips without conscious thought and lifted my chin. "I want you to tell me why you asked me here. Why are you back, Kashyk?"

He looked down at his hands, which were spread out on the desk, before meeting my eyes again. "I think you know at least part of the reason," he growled quietly.

_I might. Then again, I might not. _I hoped to hell not, and I wasn't ready to concede any point yet. But feigning ignorance did nothing for his mood, that was for certain.

"The _formula_, Kathryn," he snapped, and his dark eyes flashed with something that could very easily have been malice this time. "The coordinates to the wormhole. They weren't what we worked on. I never even saw them. _Did_ I?"

I stood my ground, my expression unwavering even as the adrenaline spiked within my system. All right. So he knew.

_Damn_.

But I'd known he'd figure it out. I'd known, and I'd had no right to be surprised even _if_ I'd half hoped he might not try to work it out on his own until we'd cleared this part of space. But still, knowing that had been his only goal from the outset of his deception, I had no idea what he was going to do now that he'd discovered he'd never had even a little bit of the information. Information that he'd craved enough to put himself at my mercy in order to gather.

I kept my head, my gaze and my voice completely level. "No," I clipped – entirely unapologetically. "You didn't."

His jaw worked, briefly, before he chased the tension from his features. And then he even offered me a tight little smile, shaking his head. "You never did trust me one bit, did you?"

"Not for a second," I snapped back automatically. Feeling the hint of an absurd smile wanting to tug at my own lips for no damn good reason I could summon at that moment.

He sighed deeply. Studying me, and then his hands again. He dropped his head, letting it droop over his shoulders, his hand reaching behind to rub at his neck, and for some reason, the gesture struck me as oddly…familiar, and almost…out of place for him. His voice had gone small as he spoke next. "That could present…a problem," he stated. Infuriatingly enigmatically.

"_Why_?" I demanded instantly. "What problem would that present?"

I could work it out for myself, of course. And had, already. But I wasn't letting him get away with _anything_, not after the stunt he'd just pulled with popping back up on our radar without warning, summoning me here without explanation, and it was best he knew that now, I decided.

The sigh he gave then was deep and almost…heavy. But he didn't answer me. He didn't even acknowledge me, or seem to indicate he'd heard my question. Instead, he leaned down behind his broad desk, and the sound of moving…fabric? Yes, it sounded like fabric…was heard. I waited impatiently, folding my arms across my chest as he moved around behind the huge piece of furniture obscuring my vision of most of him, doing God only knew what for a moment.

I heard a series of banging sounds, then a tearing of something. He grunted twice in seeming exertion as he bent down, almost out of sight completely. Then, just as I had run out of patience entirely and was ready to snap at him, he scooted back awkwardly, still bent almost double as he backed out from behind the desk, bringing into view in front of him something large and bulky, spread out on what looked to be a black tarp or fabric of some kind… I squinted as he dragged the cumbersome assembly all the way over to where I stood before dropping the edge of the tarp he'd been holding.

He paused, what I could swear was excessively dramatically. And growled, "_This_ problem."

Staring into my wide, fascinated-in-spite-of-myself eyes, he very deliberately, almost viciously yanked away the part of the fabric that was wrapped over the object inside the tarp and slowly retreated back to his desk as a choked, startled sound of disbelief escaped me before I could stop myself. I stared down at the mass at my feet in absolute shock. In horror.

"My _God_, Kashyk," I spat, incensed and with any number of other, simultaneous emotions as I stood fixed. Staring. _Gaping_ at the spectacle, the monstrosity of an offering at my feet. "What the _hell_…?"

But I saw what it was. All too well, and clearly, could I see.

It was a body. A large, dead, _Devoran_ body. A body with a huge, torso-large sear across the front of it, a body from which horrid, putrid and nausea-inspiring scents of scorched flesh and sinew were now emanating and I stared, slack-jawed in absolute, complete and unfettered disbelief. Trying in vain to make sense of this grisly, utterly incongruous picture.

The burn pattern was one I recognized from the bulkhead of my own ship; a warning shot from a Devoran phaser rifle, reportedly aimed at Rollins's head. But Rollins had fortunately ducked out of harm's way at the very last second; this man had not been so lucky. This man…

"Prax," I heard myself finally whisper with recognition, staring down upon the unfortunate creature who, until so recently, had taken such pleasure in harassing my crew.

But it was clear by the open, lifeless eyes gaping sightlessly back at me that this was one soldier who'd performed his last inspection.

There are things that shock me. There are horrifying, out of the blue revelations that can be dropped on me to test the limits of my composure, my cool, and my poise. Most of those things, I manage to take in stride, barely missing a beat before addressing, or managing them.

This was not one of those times, most assuredly not one of those "things".

I turned, stunned, back to the man responsible for this atrocity with something akin to apprehension. Horror. "You killed him," I heard myself croak more than speak.

_His own lieutenant. His faithful first officer... _

It was horrifying, and as close as I could tell, it would have been the equivalent to my producing Chakotay's dead body for Kashyk to witness, and yet he showed absolutely no remorse for his actions. No affectation. Almost nothing whatsoever, and it defied explanation. The whole, sordid thing was _insanity_.

He met my accusing gaze with an intensity I have rarely witnessed in anyone, holding my eyes locked over the rim of the coffee he'd now learned to produce for himself. But no remorse. Not even a _flicker_…

My mind had kick-started itself again, was by then working feverishly, trying to fathom the reasoning behind Kashyk's inexplicable murder – the murder of his own lieutenant. I was vehemently attempting to gauge the level of threat such an action might pose for _Voyager_ now, but it was almost impossible to think whilst being consumed by those eyes. I couldn't remember him looking at me like that before. Not on _Voyager_, and it further unnerved me, adding more fuel to the keeping-my-cool fire of failure. Though I'd swallowed reflexively, I was still whispering, because my throat was so dry it barely worked, "_Why_?"

But the answer was something I could not, _would not_ accept…

"For you, of course."

_No. _I felt my head already starting to shake back and forth in the negative as I stared back into his deep, dark eyes. _No._ _Whatever he may mean by that, it's a lie. Whatever game he's playing now, I don't believe THAT. Has he lost his mind?_ My heart thumped, skipping entire beats._ Careful, Kathryn. Careful how you play this one. He's likely unstable, volatile right now if he could do something like this... _

_Or was he always? Are you slipping? Could you have missed something like that…?_

I said nothing, frankly not even knowing what I possibly _could_ say, but waited for those eyes to release me from their hold.

"For you, Kathryn. For you – and for _Voyager_."

His unconcerned tone at complete odds with that mesmerizing stare as he took another sip of his coffee and I couldn't help but stare back at him, rooted to my spot on the deck where I stood. In those long, eternal seconds, I felt like the unfortunate, hypnotized prey of a folklore rattlesnake being charmed into paralysis by the subtle motions of the powerful predator.

_And wonderful, _I thought in the back of my mind. _Kashyk has me so out of sorts, I'm channeling Chakotay now._ But the metaphor was accurate, I had to admit, as I found myself standing, unable to move, to _breathe_, even, while I subconsciously waited for him to pounce – verbally or otherwise.

Finally, he glanced away to take another sip of his coffee, his movement breaking the unholy spell, and I found myself staring instead at the alien mug as it was lowered ever so slowly from his equally alien face, and some of the unmerciful hold that had descended over me lifted.

"He betrayed me," was his simple, quiet explanation, when it finally came. "I caught him sending the details of our last encounter to someone who would do nothing but harm to both you and myself with that information."

"I don't…" I kept shaking my head, as if to snap myself out of the persistently murky quality of my own thoughts. Feeling as if I was continually waking from a recurring dream.

_You mean nightmare, _the inner voice corrected snidely.

I didn't know _what_ the hell I meant, anymore. What he meant, what _any_ of this meant.

"Who?" I blurted before I could stop myself. Needing to know what that meant, or how it could relate to _Voyager_. "Who was Prax contacting?"

He leaned forward, as if imparting some kind of…state secret he wasn't entirely sure he should trust me with and more mouthed than breathed, "I have no idea."

If there's anything I hate, it's being toyed with, and it snapped me out of that haze again long enough to let him know what I thought of his tactics, but even the sharp look I shot him for his theatrics didn't make him waver. He only shook his head…grimly. "It doesn't matter," he explained. "Anyone in the Imperium receiving that kind of transmission would only have one response to it. Let's just say…it wouldn't be good, for either one of us."

Every ounce of any moisture left in my mouth and throat evaporated, leaving an odd metallic taste and the sensation of being parched. My voice rasped as I forced myself to summon, and catalogue, the potential ramifications of Prax's actions for my ship, and then the blood drained from my face, as well. "Did he…" I was forced to swallow as the words caught in my throat. As the images of what another Imperial officer would undoubtedly do with that information, should he indeed have gotten his hands upon it surfaced in all their grisly glory. "Did the message get through?" I demanded. Needing to know, needing to know nothing else right at that moment.

He didn't answer immediately. As my eyes narrowed, watching him, Kashyk was shaking his head slowly, but at his uncertain vacillation, I was pushed well past any hesitation that might have lingered from the intensity of his stare.

"_Did_ it, Kashyk? Do I need to prepare my ship for anyone's sudden arrival or not?" I demanded, somewhat harshly if the crack of my echo sounding in his spacious chambers was any measure.

"No," he replied quickly. Apologetically, at that. "I believe I stopped the transmission before it was sent."

My jaw dropped at that unringing endorsement, irritation flashing strongly in me. Because if there's anything I don't appreciate being jerked around with, or deceived about, in any way, it's the safety of my ship.

"You _believe_?" I growled dangerously. Pushing, "What does that mean, Kashyk? How can you not know?"

He slammed his cup down onto the table without warning, somehow managing to slosh only a few drops over the rim to splatter over onto his gleaming onyx desk and snapped, "I mean that I caught him in the act of sending the message. Of course I terminated the transmission before it could be completed, but that doesn't mean that parts of the message that had already been sent weren't readable if someone did pick them up."

He caught himself, but not before his vehemence betrayed the true nature of his concern, and my stomach continued to steadily drop. If _he_ was that concerned…

The display embarrassed him. I could see it in his eyes as he caught me staring and stopped himself, brought himself up short. That muscle in the side of his cheek moved, flexing as he ground his teeth, and then he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. To meet my unrelentingly questioning gaze.

"I don't believe anyone received it. If they had, there would already be ships on the way. I haven't detected any yet." He shook his head, more to himself than to me. As if reassuring himself. "No," he muttered. "They can't have gotten it."

I released a breath of my own. Nodding slowly, because I supposed it made sense. With _Voyager_ heading for the border, why would anyone wait if he had any incriminating information? He'd leave immediately, in order to be sure he caught us before we left their space. I would still take proper precautions now, of course…my mind was already focused half on everything I would have B'Elanna and Tuvok working on. Not to mention Seven…she would be a great help, I was sure…

But the question still remained then…of _why I was here_. Of what in the hell he wanted from me, or expected me to do about it – about _any_ of it.

"Let's get one thing straight, then, Kashyk," I growled. The bile had long since been rising in my throat as we stood there, having this conversation with Prax's still-warm corpse lying between us, and I forced myself not to look down again, to dismiss the image now burned, seared into my brain as I approached Kashyk, carefully sidestepping the atrocity on the floor. I stalked up to him, stopping only when I could go no further, prevented from advancing by his floor-length, massive desk. "You did _that_…" I gestured sharply behind me, indicating Prax's corpse, "as much for yourself as for me and my crew," I accused. Refusing to let him get away with placing the blame for that man's life on my shoulders. On my ship.

He didn't back down from me. I can give him that. Not from my approach, from my words or the sentiment behind them. He only shrugged – _shrugged_! "We can say I did it for both of us, then," he conceded. Far too smoothly, with those eyes still far too penetrating as he stared, seemingly deep into my soul. "But whether you want to admit it or not, I did it for you, too. And you know…_full well_…why."

I hated him even more for having done it for the reason he was implying. For being able to, capable of cold-blooded murder to protect himself or to protect us – me. He could give a damn about _Voyager_ or anyone on it, I knew. If an ounce of his actions had been taken for any reason other than selfish ones, it would have been for me…_just_ me.

I, on the other hand, didn't have the luxury of acting, or thinking, for just myself. Not now, and not during this volatile situation, in which everything, everyone's safety, once more, was hanging in the balance. And the fact remained that Kashyk did nothing out of the kindness of his non-existent heart, had not come here and essentially dragged me from my ship, at the threat of his superior firepower, for nothing.

He wanted something. Wanted it very badly. And with the way he was staring at me, still…coupled with the way he'd just gone for that shock and awe value of his "big" reveal over by the door just now, he was leaving me in very little doubt as to what that _something_ was.

And it wasn't the formula.

And if there was a chance – even a small one – that I could give him anything to persuade him to leave my ship in peace, then there was, essentially, no choice. No room for debate, no need for it, really. If the ship could leave Devore Space, unharmed…with no bloodshed or weapons fired?

The decision was already made for me.

In the grand scheme of things, I was the very last thing that mattered.

I forced myself to ask him again, and as I did so, to keep my eyes, my gaze leveled to his. "What do you want from me?" Forcing myself not to hedge this time – or to let him. "If it's…" I swallowed but didn't allow myself to look away, or even to close my eyes, not even for a second, "if it's only me, Kashyk…then I'll stay. I'll give you what you want, if that's all it is. But you're to let _Voyager_ pass without challenge," I made sure he knew. "You're going to let them leave your space unharmed."

I'm not entirely sure what I expected, if I'm honest. But it sure as hell wasn't absolute _silence_.

He didn't say a word. Not for long, agonizing minutes, while I waited for him to decide, essentially to pronounce my fate while my everything, hell, my _soul_ hung in the balance and I hated every second of that, too, but none of that was so much as a the weight of a feather in comparison to the weight of the ship, and the rest of the crew…and all of it was hanging in the balance now. I waited, hating him all the more for every single second that those blazing eyes burned into my face, my body. As he considered what I was offering him. Considered taking that offer…

He softened. In a way he never, ever had before, even while trying to convince me that he was defecting. And then, before I could release the breath I'd been holding, the breath that was wanting to explode my lungs in its desperation to be released, he asked softly, almost too softly for me to hear it…

"For _Voyager_?" He leaned forward over the desk, planting his palms more securely atop it, as if to brace himself to be able to hear my response, and effectively bringing those smoldering, too intense eyes within centimeters of mine. "You would stay with me…_with_ me…in exchange for your ship?"

Would I?

It was a simple enough question. For _Voyager_. Would I leave behind everything my life had been about until this moment, throw away forty-plus years of belief, values and principles? Simply walk away from anything that had ever been familiar to me, everything and anyone that had become home to me? Throw away my captaincy, my responsibility, my very identity and everything I _was_? To toss myself into the care of this man, who was utterly, undeniably ruthless, violent, and now, I had to add to the list, possibly unstable? Trusting my own life to someone who was more infatuated than he was in love, by all indications, even knowing how situations like this, with personality profiles like Kashyk's, had to end at some point in the future, when the expectation of greater-than-mortal perfection was broken in his eyes, and he undoubtedly turned on me – probably violently?

Would I do…all of that…for _Voyager_?

There was no hesitation in my response. I had been the one to lead them here, and if this was all it cost to get them out of it safely…

"Yes," I whispered back at him. Meaning it, every bit of it and no less. Spoken and unspoken. Spelled out and not.

Aware of my shoulders having lost some of their edge, absently, almost as if I wasn't even a part of the scene, I stood there, waiting for him to accept my offer – or to decline it – I straightened them. Hardened my own voice, to counterbalance the almost…obscene softness in his. "As long as they go free, safely out of Devore Space, I don't care about anything else. I'll stay with you if you let them go."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Twelve

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

It was nothing less than a moment of crisis. A fundamental test of who I was, and perhaps was going to be, from that moment onward.

I've only ever had one of those before, and that was a scant week ago, courtesy of none but the very woman standing before me right now.

The safest thing for me to do…the most prudent course of self-protective action I could have taken would have been to call my men back in. To have them subdue her, hold her still, and then inject her with the syringe I'd already prepared and now stored out of sight in the breast pocket of my uniform. To force her to give me those coordinates, and that formula. As I'd intended to do when I'd summoned her here. Then, no matter what happened with regard to the transmission, if anyone did come looking, I'd simply be able to say that I'd done what I needed to in order to get that formula. With it, we would catch scores of telepaths, in record numbers, because we would always know where to look for them, and when. No one could argue that. And any other breech of procedure, of protocol I'd made along these past few weeks, all of them, including allowing _Voyager_ to flee with those telepaths, would be instantly forgiven.

Not even the emperor, or Prax's last testimony could touch me then.

And I could still have her, of course. _Voyager_ could do little to touch me, especially once I called in reinforcements. I could have the ship, the wormhole, _and_ her. She would be every bit as much mine as she was offering to be in that moment if I simply took her, as planned.

But her offer. Now that was fundamentally interesting.

I considered it. _Strongly _considered it. I stared at her for Gods only knew how long in silence, not quite knowing why in the seven hells I hadn't done it yet. Why I was still standing there, behind my desk, listening to her speech. Why we were still facing each other. Still _talking_.

Why I wasn't already fucking her, then and there, spreading her warm body across the cool, gleaming polish of my desk and to hell with Prax's rotting body meters away from us. . Never have I hesitated to take any remotely attractive woman up on an offer like this – and I have had them, ad infinitum. Gaharay and telepath women on the bad end of an inspection and facing arrest by the Imperium will do and offer anything and everything to a man like me, whom they believe to be in the position to help them. I have never shied away from letting them offer, either, or from failing to hold up my end of the "bargain" in the end. I've usually enjoyed myself with them that much more for the anticipation of their reactions when I'm finished, and call for Prax to haul them away, in spite of their sacrificed self respect and dignity to persuade me to do otherwise.

Yet with her, I hesitated. _Why_? That was what I just couldn't seem to understand…

"_Kashyk_." Her voice, the sharp, insistent tone of it, and those smoking, very blue eyes of hers were drilling into me, dragging me back into the present. "Answer me. Is that what this is all about? Is that…really all you want?"

Her. Did I want her, she wanted to know. A caustic little huff of breath escaped, unbidden. That was a ridiculous question, and one that was doing absolutely nothing for the images, the erotic, explicit images of having her bare body splayed out underneath me, of ripping away those clothes and revealing skin, curves, for my mouth, my hands to feast upon and explore…

Just standing here with her, inhaling her scent across the desk and breathing the same air as she, I was already hard enough to break in half at the slightest wrongly applied pressure. And now she was offering me the one thing that I happened to be craving like Prax craved sweets…

Used to crave them.

It should have been enough. Enough to let her stay, to let her give me what I so very much wanted to take from her. It very nearly was. Anyone else, any other woman that I'd ever desired, even in passing, would already have been on her back on that desk…perhaps on her hands and knees, depending on the swiftest, most time-economic position I could get her into…

She _wasn't_ any other woman. She was…her. And I still wasn't quite certain what that _meant_, damn her…

"_Kashyk_," she growled, and I read the anger in her face at my continued silence just as much as it resonated in her rich voice. "Is that what you want?"

I inhaled deeply, to break my own silence. To keep from answering her with brutal action, instead of with words. Why, I still wasn't entirely certain, and with what words I intended to respond I hadn't even determined, but the scent of her only washed through me all the more keenly, potently with that deep breath, and then even I could not have guessed at the words that sprang, almost unbidden, to my tongue.

"Is it what _you_ want, Kathryn? Is it what you want me to want?"

She was shaking her head almost before I'd finished. "No," she admonished, shaking a solitary, accusing finger in displeasure, angered by my response. "Don't do that. Not now, and not with this – no more games, Kashyk. I'm serious."

And I understood her rebuke, felt its accuracy even if I hadn't quite been conscious that that was what I had been doing. At least on a certain level. To other levels, and the logic behind my questions, I still couldn't speak.

"This is real," she told me. "I just made you an offer. Tell me if it's what you want from me. Yes or no."

I still wasn't sure when, exactly, it had become a matter of something she was in a position to offer, rather than be compelled to give, but it would seem to have. And she would accept nothing less than a response. A real response, I saw now.

"For the ship," I repeated. Fingering the coffee cup as an excuse to look away from her. Anything to break away from those damned alien eyes of hers, that face, and that body. "You'll stay for your ship," I rephrased her sentiment with excruciating care.

She nodded, and at the motion, I was compelled to look up at her again. To gauge her sincerity. There was no hint of treachery. No warning signs of deception. "Yes," she confirmed. "I'll stay, willingly, if they go free."

"Then no."

She looked…surprised. Blinked, as though she hadn't heard me correctly, and I did. _Not_. Blame her.

"I don't want you to give yourself to me for the sake of your ship. I want you to stay only if it's what _you_ want."

I don't know who, exactly, was speaking in that moment, what abysmally stupid creature must have been using my body, my voice to form the words, but it was reminiscent of nothing I'd ever said to anyone before.

_What the hell?_ I felt the urge to scan myself, her, to make sure there was no foreign sort of mind control operating here, because the damnable thing of it all, as I spoke those unfamiliar, foreign-sounding words was that I seemed to have _meant _them.

It was my turn to scrutinize. To interrogate and to put on the spot. I made her hold _my_ gaze as I pressed, "Is it? Can you stay behind while your crew goes onward, not for them, not even a little bit for them…but for me?" Her mouth opened slightly, and a wary expression began to wash over her features, but I swiftly shook my finger at her, refusing to let her do that: retreat back into the politics and niceties that had been the staple of our interaction until this moment. "No more games, Kathryn," I reminded her sternly, and she froze guiltily. Closing her mouth as I modified, "Can you say that you would stay for either yourself or for me?"

I found that everything I had and knew, wanted and believed, was resting on her answer to that single question. On the feelings of a _gaharay_ woman who had come _this_ close to costing me my career and everything I'd worked all my life to achieve.

And yet I simply didn't care about any of it. If there was a chance…a single chance that her answer to that question was yes…

But I saw it in the remorse flashing in her eyes. In the softening of her expression and the collapse of her stern posture well before she verbalized a soft, apologetic, and crushing, "No."

No. Just…_no_. The anger in me swelled to a near lethal degree, and it was difficult not to break the cup in my grip as my hand tightened compulsively around it.

"I'm sorry, Kashyk." She sounded it. And again, any other woman and that wouldn't have mattered to me in the slightest, but with her, it somehow did. Made it less. Less insulting, less crushing, and less humiliating to be rejected by her.

Somewhat.

"But I couldn't choose that life just for myself, even if I were the only factor in the equation. Which I'm not."

At least the tension was gone. That awful, breaking tension that had felt as if it was trying to rip my resolve down to shreds under its ever-growing pressure, its sheer exertion of force.

I smiled, wondering if the smile looked as brittle as it felt stretching, cracking my dry lips and shrugged.

"Why? Does it really matter to you _why_ I would stay?" she pressed shrewdly.

I paused in the act of lifting the cup for another sip only to recognize that it was empty anyway. I set it back down, my gaze drawn to the emptiness. Another smile needing to play across my lips, more brittle cracking there. "Not anymore," I allowed.

She lifted her chin. Raising her head to look me full on in the face. "Are you still going to try to take my ship?"

Was I? Another interesting question. But that ship…her God-forsaken ship, on its voyage of the damned…was everything to her. She'd just as much as offered to sacrifice herself up to a life she'd admitted not really wanting in order to get it safely out of danger. For her, taking the ship would be the equivalent of taking her – actually worse.

"No," I admitted softly. Allowing her to see in my face, without guarding it for once, the truth of my words. Watching her relax quite visibly before my eyes, and liking that I'd done that for her as much as I hated how comfortable she now looked. Especially considering how decidedly uncomfortable the damned woman had made me in my own skin lately.

I could still take her. I could do everything I'd planned to do to her and more…

Only it would mean nothing. Absolutely nothing, would be no victory. Not when she had outwitted me at every. Single. Turn. It would be the equivalent of taking that which I had not earned, something to which I had no lawful, _physis_ right.

And she didn't deserve it.

_Oh, the hell __she doesn't_! my inner reason, inconveniently silent for this entire exchange, broke in at last.

All right. So she did deserve it. She deserved everything I could do to her, every single cruel and calculated action I could take to break her, and probably much more for the way she'd affected me, outmatched me at every conceivable point. And especially for that smug, cocky attitude she maintained all the while in which she'd done it.

But I'd already decided. Apparently long ago, even if I was just now fully realizing it. I wasn't going to do it. Not to her, I wasn't.

Still, the former thoughts brought something shooting to mind, had me suspiciously surveying her through hooded, calculating eyes.

"How many precautions have you taken in coming here?" I blurted, growling the question.

That smile I knew so well – _loved_, so well – played upon her features: that wry, half smile of both self-satisfaction and appreciation for my recognition of her intelligence. Her cunning. But that appreciation, I had come by the hard way, hadn't I? She should afford me the courtesy of at least acknowledging it.

"A few," she admitted. And then perhaps she sensed the level of my confliction…my inner struggle…because her eyes suddenly narrowed, and she swiftly, astutely amended, "Enough."

"Ah." More of that lingering tension escaped me. I offered her the slightest nod of respect at her foresight. Given the non-existent timeline I'd afforded her before joining her ship just now, it was impressive enough. "I should have guessed," I heard myself admit.

And I should have.

I stole her line. "Safety precautions," I murmured, almost listlessly. "And yes, I understand."

She grew serious. Gravely so, and shifted her posture to mimic my own stance, planting her palms flat on the desk I so wanted to shove her, face-down over, and leaning even closer over it. Bringing her compelling, intense face, those lips I knew the tantalizing taste of, closer to mine. "If you don't want _me__–__"_

I emitted an earnest, piercing bark of laughter at that, interrupting her. "I think we both know _that's_ not accurate."

She colored, just barely. A fetching shading of her normally pale skin I'd found enchanting each of the few times I'd managed to draw this reaction from her. But she hardly paused, simply nodded her acknowledgement of my correction. "Fine. Since you don't want me to _stay_ if I can't stay for you, then I'm brought back to my original question. Why am I here, Kashyk? Why did you send for me? Why did you insist that I meet you here, alone?"

Ah. That.

I could always tell her the truth. What she'd been so close to having happen to her. To her ship and crew. Somehow, it felt like a small victory to keep it to myself, now that I'd decided against it, however, and I merely shrugged. "I wanted to warn you about what has transpired since last we met." I indicated toward the body on the floor behind her with a vague wave of my hand, and saw her stiffen. It brought a smile to my lips. An almost real one, this time. Her God-damned humanity, rearing its ugly head again. She just couldn't help herself, even when my victim had been her enemy, and one who had unquestionably wished her personal harm. I shrugged again. "It's not the kind of subject matter most prudently trusted to a ship-to-ship transmission."

She bought it about as well as I expected, which was to say – not in the slightest. "You still could have. Our ships were close enough that you could have done it without anyone else being the wiser."

But that was somewhere she was mistaken. "No. If there's one thing you have underestimated about us, it's the level of our paranoia, Kathryn. I am barely confident of safely having this conversation in this _room_, let alone over subspace."

She frowned, her eyes flitting over the room in no particular pattern, as if cataloguing it for the first time. "Are the Devore really that intrusive? Even with their own people?"

I laughed bitterly. "You have no idea. Telepaths are devious creatures, in more ways than one. Despite our best efforts, there are sympathizers everywhere. You can never be too careful…" I stopped as her frown was turned directly to me, and I sensed myself becoming the object of her disapproval.

"Do you actually believe all that rhetoric you're so fond of spewing?" she asked. Apparently disgusted by our values, our way of life, and it incensed me.

"Do you actually believe you have the right to interfere in a culture you have not even the most basic, fundamental understanding of, as _you're_ so fond of doing?" I hissed.

She opened her mouth to retort but stopped suddenly. Cocked her head, seeming taken aback. Blinked. And stood down, her eyes going to the desk, sliding her palms further back to rest along the edge closest to her. She nodded once, still looking down. "All right." She spoke quietly now. "I apologize. Clearly, we don't see eye to eye on many things." She lifted her gaze from the desk. "But that's a perfect example of why I could never stay here with you. Not…peacefully," she amended.

"Peace is overrated," I rumbled, before I could stop myself.

She didn't take the bait. Held my eyes. "Do they really…watch you? All of you? You have to worry that you're being observed…_all_ the time?"

"Yes."

"How can you stand it? Always having to watch your back all the time?" She appeared genuinely distressed by the notion.

"It helps if you do nothing wrong," I countered officiously, automatically, because it was entrenched in me to reply this way. Though she said nothing to that, I caught her raised, clearly dubious eyebrow, and caught, for some reason, on that train of thought. Wondering why it was so automatic for me to speak those words. It was the logic, the state-sponsored mentality that had been ingrained in me since birth, but it only then, in that particular moment, occurred to me that that was where I'd learned it. Had I ever given this particular notion true, independent thought before? Ever, in my entire lifetime?

No, I realized. I merely echoed what had been told to me from a very young age. I'd said it so often myself by this point, that, if ever I _might_ have been inclined to question it, I had convinced myself of the truth of it, the rightness of our way long before now.

"Forgive me, Kashyk, but, from where I stand…that's no way to live," she shuddered softly.

I paused. For perhaps the first time in my life, I considered that there might _be_ another way to live. Considered living for the sake of life, and not for the sake of how things looked and appeared and should be made to look and appear. The way I imagined she must live, or would live, once she'd cleared our territory. I wondered what it would be like to have stayed with her – with them. Would I have liked it there? Even a little? What would it have been like to live without having to watch my back at every turn, looking for the next operative keen on making his way by catching me in a bad light, if he could. Looking for the traitor, perhaps among my own ranks, the upstart who was keen to take my title, or to ruin my prestige just so that he could improve his own?

I found I had no clue. If there was another way, I'd never experienced it, and so, didn't really have a frame of reference. I shook myself out of it. It wasn't worth thinking about, would only serve to give me a headache worse than the one I had already.

And that she wasn't as familiar with my culture as I sometimes expected her to be was made glaringly apparent by her questions, and by her reaction to my answers. Of course that, too had been by design. Unlike me, she hadn't had access to Devore databases to study our culture as thoroughly as I had hers.

I sighed. "There are always government operatives. We're never told who they are, of course. But I'm relatively adept at spotting them. Sniffing them out, so to speak. I usually have no trouble making sure they're…otherwise occupied."

_Until you came, at least_, I wanted to add. But something stopped me, something I was hard-pressed to identify.

"But there are also keen incentives among non-secret agents to turn in traitors among our own race," I continued. "It's as much an honor to turn in one of our own who has betrayed his race by sympathizing, either passively or actively. Revealing someone of my rank and prestige…" I trailed off ruefully. "Well…there are drawbacks to rank and privilege." My eyes narrowed, settling on the mound of black tarp just over her shoulders. "As Prax has demonstrated most keenly today."

It still galled me. To think of his betrayal. He had been with me for upwards of seven years. Never would I have seen this one coming.

And I had to admit to myself now, because my eyes were already drawn back to her like a tractor beam pulling them there, that it was because I'd been so uncommonly distracted by her that his turning had gotten by me at all. Before, I'd have smelled it, and he'd never have gotten past me. I'd have known just by watching him, and he would never have gotten near enough to that transponder to be able to so much as touch its keypad…

That I didn't know his intended target still worried me. He had targeted several areas, some seemingly with no ships nearby to be able to receive the message at all, but…why?

"What did he say?" Her question was quiet, as she glanced over her shoulder at Prax's body. "In his message? What was he trying to send that was so bad you had to kill him?"

_He's in love with her. _

I smiled loosely, waving my hand in vague dismissal. "Oh, something about traitors. And letting a ship full of telepaths, with the coordinates to the most sought-after astrological phenomena in all of the Imperium simply pass through my fingers. Deliberately."

_She has him so brainwashed, he can no longer clearly see The Way._

She regarded me solemnly. Saying nothing, and everything in her silence.

"Something about gross treason," I added pointedly, to counter her unspoken claims.

_I don't recognize him anymore. She did something to him. I don't know what, but she's definitely turned him. There is no question she has turned him away from the righteous path. _

"And some other nonsense about my becoming a sympathizer." I shrugged.

_He's become a threat to the Devoran People. He must be relieved of his command at once. His assets frozen and reallocated, and his mind reoriented._

"And where, exactly, did I come into all that?" she asked, after another time of silence in which I could think of nothing to add.

_The gaharay ship must be seized, the general crew executed immediately. At least Janeway has knowledge of the wormhole, and how to open it again. She must be detained, the information extracted from her, by force, if necessary. I will volunteer my assistance to your extraction specialists. I've worked with him long enough to have picked up many effective…and painful…techniques. She's corrupted a man I would have bet my life would never sway from the true path. In my opinion, she has proven herself worthy of as much suffering as is possible to inflict upon her. _

Incidentally, it was upon reaching that last line in the paragraph in which I'd raised my eyes to him, pulled back on the trigger of my weapon, and blasted that beautiful hole right across and through his fat torso. His eyes had widened in surprise when I'd done it. As if he'd actually expected I would let him live after such an overt act of betrayal…

"Kashyk?" she repeated, more insistently this time. My gaze snapped back into focus on her face. "What did I have to do with any of that?"

"Having telepaths aboard your ship, of course. Not to mention the true coordinates to the wormhole."

Her eyes narrowed at once.

"You'll have to give them to me," I informed her now. Even knowing, already, what her answer to that would be.

"No. I won't. And before you even think of threatening to take it by force, I'm the only one who has any idea what those true coordinates are. Every mention of specific data regarding that wormhole has been wiped from the computer core. It's irretrievable, even to someone with Starfleet Security level ten clearance."

I wanted to be surprised and…disappointed. Shocked, or let down. I wasn't. Not deep down. Had I really expected any less from her? From Kathryn Janeway?

No. Not really.

I leaned forward, licking my lips as I stared at hers, and observed the way her eyes were drawn to the slow, sweeping motion of my tongue. And smiled slowly to see her realizing what she was doing, and then straighten immediately. "And what's to stop me from taking the information from _you_ by force?" I asked. Partly to unnerve her, partly because I knew damned well I should be doing it, then and there, and yet mostly, if I was entirely honest, because I wanted to see her reaction to the idea of it.

She didn't so much as flinch, though she did blink. It was subtle, but I did catch that. Her head only tilted back by the slightest of increments, one eyebrow rising, and that challenging lilt came crunching down in her throaty voice, "Depends on what time it is."

I started. Standing straight, for the first time in long minutes. Scrutinizing her as I turned over her seemingly non sequitor of an inquiry. And checked the small block inset along the inner ledge of my desk. "Thirty point four intervals. Why?"

She squinted. "Any idea what that translates to in hours?"

I shook my head, confused. "No."

She straightened, as well. Looking smug, which tipped me off well before she tapped the gleaming metal on her chest. "Janeway to _Voyager_," she hailed smoothly, before I could think to stop her.

"_Chakotay here, Captain," _the familiar voice of the oaf came steadily through the static-less channel. _"Everything all right?"_

I stared at her, giving her a warning glare and growing decidedly wary.

"Fine, Commander. I think we're almost finished here." She smiled slightly. Entirely unaffected by my warning. "How are things over there?"

"_No sign of any activity from Kashyk's ship."_ The slightest of pauses, while I digested that. Tried to digest it. "_We've been getting a little nervous over here. You only have four minutes left."_

"Four minutes for what?" I demanded, very close to reaching over the desk and taking her arm in a firm grip. To force her to answer me, and to stop toying with me.

"I'll be there shortly, Commander. Janeway out." Her gaze never left my face even as she made that leap of an assumption and cut the line. She made a point of smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from the sides and front of her uniform. Smoothly, casually explaining, "Four minutes until the toxin I ingested before coming here takes full effect."

My jaw had gone slack, my mouth falling slightly agape before I caught it. "What the seven hells are you talking about?" I demanded. Trying to look stable.

She cocked her head to the side, clucking her tongue as if in disappointment at my surprise. "You didn't _really_ think I'd trust you enough to come here without any form of safeguard, did you? That I'd just…walk onto your ship, under your control, without making sure I had a way to keep that information from you…permanently?"

I swallowed. Ready to kill her. "_I let you go_," I reminded her. Growling it, and too close to throttling her to risk even the slightest movement around the desk. The desk was about the only thing keeping her facial features, the straight line of her white neck intact in that moment – I couldn't trust myself to approach her in that instant.

"Yes," she acknowledged. She looked sad now. Her head coming down from that high tilt of haughty defiance at which it liked to rest. "I know."

"What happens if you don't take the antidote–" I paled, suddenly, cutting myself off. Because this was _her_ we were speaking of. "There _is_ an antidote?" I demanded immediately, the instant the horrible suspicion crossed my mind. Experiencing something that would have been close to panic, if it wouldn't have been so ridiculous to respond this way to thought of her imminent death…

"There is," she confirmed, to the lifting of a certain vice-like tension that had descended over my lungs. "But it would take far longer than I have left at this point for you to derive that antidote from scratch."

The muscles in my cheek twitched painfully, my teeth grinding against each other, and I had to forcefully unclench my jaw in order to ask, "And if I try to take it from your ship?"

"You can try." She snorted derisively, doing nothing for the building rage at her final deception. "Good luck finding it before the toxin kills me."

She came perhaps closest to being struck in that instant.

But I gathered my self-control at the last moment.

"And what happens if you don't get it?" I inquired simply. Although I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"I lapse into an unresponsive coma about four minutes from the time it's fully released into my system. Death occurs within the hour." She shrugged. As if it was nothing more than commonplace occurrence. Never once blinking or hesitating. Or giving a single indication that she was anything less than deadly serious.

No pun intended.

"And they _allowed_ this?" I demanded. Incensed, on her behalf. "The oaf…" she frowned sharply, eyes flashing distaste at the reference, though I knew she knew exactly whom I spoke of and I backtracked, simply to avoid lost time with the argument, "your first officer. He _allowed_ this." Anger surged through me, as potent as any she'd already wrung from my tired veins. "Is he _daft_?" I all but roared.

"He wasn't given any say in the matter," she clipped icily. Daring me to continue this line of questioning. "The chance couldn't be taken. Given your track record, I'm sure you can't blame me."

I stared. In disbelief. And some fear. "When it…" I swallowed once, but it did nothing to moisten my dry throat. My mind racing, over so many things. "You'll just…drop? In the next several fractions, then? How does it work?"

"No." She shook her head calmly – _calmly_! – in the negative. "I took it orally, in a specialized gelatin capsule. The capsule was designed to be resistant to human digestive enzymes for approximately fifty-six minutes. Give or take a few. Just about now, the toxin is being accessed by my stomach acids. It's…" An odd expression crossed her features. "It's being disseminated through my bloodstream as we speak. Now, it'll start to break down my systems, one by one." As I watched, before my penetrating stare, she paled, all color leaving her face in one rush, as if someone had just at that moment drained her of blood, and her hand went to her stomach, either consciously or unconsciously, I couldn't tell. She swayed, but caught herself. Looking decidedly annoyed at that fact, but then it happened again and it didn't seem to matter anymore. None of it did.

I only knew I'd rounded the desk, the barrier between us no longer important as my hands went to her upper arms, drawing her in front of me to steady her.

She needed it. I felt her sway again, and pulled her more closely against me. Her head bowed, but she shook it, as if to clear it. Tipped her face up to meet my eyes. "I'll be all right for another minute or so."

It was hardly reassuring to me. "And then what happens?" I demanded.

Another grimace – _that_ was what the odd expression had been the first time – crossed her features, pulling her brows together in what must have been pain. And then she laughed. Laughed. It was somewhat ironically, but I'd be damned if that hadn't been a dark chuckle.

"And then I'll be…in some…discomfort…until my lungs can no longer process the amount of oxygen I need to stay conscious." Her speech was even beginning to slur. Faintly, but it was there. "The worst of the pain, I'll miss at that point."

I could hardly believe it. Believe what she'd done, what she'd, once more, been willing to risk for that damned ship. For her damned crew.

"You offered to stay," I reminded her. Accusingly, at the notion of what would have occurred within so short a time span of her agreeing to do so. "You would have let yourself die here. Letting me _think_ you would stay…"

"No." She shook her head, but it had to drop then, against my chest, and the rest of her explanation was muffled, but I could just make it out. "I'd have gone back to the ship and taken the antidote first. If you'd agreed. And if I'd believed you were sincere."

"And you'd have trusted me not to try and get the information from you later?"

She smiled. I could feel it against my chest, through my uniform. "I'd have brought a dose back with me."

"And _then_ you'd have died."

"If you tried to take the information from me, yes. I'd have taken the toxin again."

"What is it?" I growled.

She shook her head, albeit somewhat listlessly, making a soft chastising sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "You know better than to even ask me that, Kashyk."

She'd thought of everything. I should have beaten the living hell out of her for this. For doing it. To me, yes, but most especially for taking such chances with her life. Did she have no idea how close she had come…no idea, even, what kind of a cold, unfeeling bastard I really was at heart? How easily I could simply have let her die? _Would_ have, only a few short intervals ago?

But no. Of course she did. Kathryn knew _exactly_ what kind of man I was. What I was capable of doing. She'd just chosen to protect the ship over her own well being. Over her own life. She was ready to die for them. Always for them.

I found I didn't understand that about her. About her people. Humans, and the Federation types. What was the allure, the attraction, of protecting something at the cost of one's own _life_?

Life is the most precious possession of any sentient creature. Without it, nothing can follow. Losing it…throwing it away on the romance of an ideal, or of a belief… What could it be like, to have such warped priorities? Could it somehow be more satisfying to die for a cause…than to live without one? What crucial piece of logic, of _reality_ was I missing here, that I couldn't see why she would do this for them? How she could do this?

And how in the hell she could look so damned…satisfied. Utterly fulfilled, from the inside out, while doing it.

I didn't understand her people, I came to realize then, in that one moment. I didn't understand humans, their values, their way of life, quite so well as I thought that I had. I knew this _about_ them, or so I'd thought, but until I'd seen it, first hand…

I simply didn't understand her.

Perhaps I never really had.

But regardless of how I felt about any of it, there was no time for my anger, or my disapproval. She clearly had to get back to the ship. There was no question of it. She hadn't lied; there was something sinister breaking down her body right before my eyes. She'd truly poisoned herself.

She'd never let me see her in a moment of weakness like this, physical or otherwise, if she hadn't done exactly as she claimed, I realized with sinking heart.

She could barely stand, and now a wheezing quality was already beginning to be heard in each increasingly labored breath she took.

"Foolish woman," I murmured, for lack of better things to say. "Ridiculously foolish, _gaharay_ woman." I couldn't even be angry with her. Not when she was standing there, practically in my arms and needing me for physical support just to stand. She swayed against me as I shifted her weight, and I pulled her more against me, bracing her more fully against the length of myself. "You did this for them, didn't you? To force my hand." I shook my head.

She nodded against me, still the slightest bit stiff, and resisting my supportive embrace with what was probably the last vestiges of her strength. "I had to take a few precautions." She coughed, but managed, "You understand?"

Gods, but she was a bitch. I wasn't going to stand here and allow her to die in my arms. She knew it – must have known it, before she'd even come.

I swallowed the last of my hope. My pride.

"Kashyk to Control," I hailed quietly.

"_Control here, Inspector_," Brex's voice came over my inter-ship comm. system, strong and clear.

"Drop shields and standby to beam the captain back to her vessel at my command."

"_Sir_?"

"Do it."

A pause. Barely noticeable by most standards, but notice it I did, in spite of the gravity of the situation. In spite of the profound sadness I experienced listening to the increasingly wheezing, gasping quality of her breath against my chest. And I would address that pause later. But for now…

"_Understood, Inspector_."

The line dropped. And I had one last question to ask, even if I knew the answer already. "What happens if I simply wait for them to administer the antidote?"

I let go of her arms, looping one of mine around her waist to keep supporting her. Officially in preparation for lifting her when her legs gave out entirely, but unofficially letting myself know the feel of her against me one final time.

But I still had to know. "Kathryn? I could come and take you again very easily. You must know that."

"They're not…to give it…until your ship has set course…away…from our position. Sorry. You…understand?" She'd tilted her head back enough to look at me again, but had difficulty holding it steady. And now her muscles, all of them seemed to be trembling uncontrollably. But the slight smile was decorating her icy pale lips, trembling or no.

I smiled tightly back at her, aware that it didn't meet my eyes. Trying to maintain my persona. My bearing. "Better than anyone," I assured her.

"I won't…see you…again?" she asked as her legs buckled and I picked her up so that I could lay her comfortably on the floor, in order that she not fall flat on her face upon rematerialization on her own ship. Glad I'd even thought of it, really… As I set her down, carefully, some of her hair fell over her face, obscuring it, and I was compelled to smooth it back for her.

I shook my head, staring down at her. Defeated, once again.

"No. Keep going," I urged quietly. "Head for the borders of our space, and don't look back. I'll let you know if anything…develops. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She nodded, and I relaxed…very slightly. "I…wanted…" She trailed off, coughing deeply this time. No longer wheezing but rasping in her breathing. Her eyelids began to flutter as she struggled to keep them open, and I sighed. Took one last look at her face. Memorizing every curve and subtle plane. Inhaling that intoxicating alien scent one last time.

I trailed my fingertips over the right side of her face as those now clouded, magnificent blue eyes of hers fluttered closed and she went completely lax, her head lolling away to the side. "Kashyk to control," I called solemnly, opening the channel once more. "_Now_."

She disappeared from my life without another word spoken between us.

Only her scent lingered in my chambers, a reminder that she had been there, long after she was gone.

* * *

_**Chakotay**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Come on, Kathryn._

"The inspector's vessel has dropped shields." Tuvok's voice cut through the tense silence, and my head snapped up immediately.

"Weapons' status?" I demanded, pushing myself up from her chair to stand.

He paused, checking. Raised his eyes. "Still charged."

_Damn it_, I bit back on swearing to myself in the last second. Wrestling with what that meant. I put my arms behind my back, draping one wrist into the opposite hand to keep from pacing, as I spared a glance over my other shoulder. "Still no word from the captain, Harry?"

He shook his head, just as I'd known he would. "Not since her hail to the bridge," he confirmed grimly, his eyes expectant. They'd _all_ turned to look at me by now.

My mind raced, refusing to quiet. The last time we'd been in something like this situation had been with the Borg, when she'd been over on their cube. And now she was, once again, negotiating with the devil to get us all safe passage out of hell.

A few seconds ticked past while I considered, looking at the situation from every conceivable angle. She's said she was fine, and almost done. But did that mean she'd really gotten Kashyk to comply? Or that something had gone wrong, and she didn't want to alarm us? Or push us into taking drastic action to get her back? Either one could be the case, here – knowing her the way that I unfortunately did. We had no idea what was transpiring over on that ship, and I'd been pretty much steadily praying my imagination was running rampant on me, that I'd just become overly jaded by a life in the Maquis, and now in the Delta Quadrant.

At least before, when she'd been with the Borg, there were certain things I was fairly sure I _didn't_ have to worry about that could possibly be happening to her while we sat here. Waiting. Essentially powerless and without a clue what she was facing over there. Under strict orders not to move a muscle without her explicit authorization. Just like right now. But there'd at least been certain sordid scenarios I didn't have to entertain as possibilities she could be trying to fend off over there. While we sat here. Waiting. Ready to fend off a full-scale attack against the ship that might break out at any moment and force me to give the order to retreat and leave her behind at the enemy's mercy.

Not so this time. This time, pretty much anything was on the table as something she might well be facing over there. And I have to admit my imagination was taking full, vicious advantage of that fact.

Not that assimilation had really been the kind of horror I could easily compare to what was running through my mind like some grotesque, repeating time-loop now, anyway.

I felt the collective stares of the entire bridge crew burning into me from all angles, even as they tried – unsuccessfully – not to make it obvious that's what they were doing.

A decision had to be made.

"Do likewise, Tuvok," I ordered calmly. Standing my ground. "Drop shields, but keep weapons locked on them. And if they open fire, do the same – don't even wait for my order."

"Acknowledged," he intoned, what was approvingly if I spoke Vulcan well enough by now.

I'd long since conceded one of the things Kathryn and I had argued about in those early years out here, which was that Vulcan inflections could be read, supposedly implacable tones and expressions or not. They could be, I'd learned, the more I'd gotten to know him. He approved. The subtle bleeps of his console could be heard as he continued working the buttons there in preparation for – anything. Whatever it was Kashyk was going to do.

For about another minute, there was silence. Nothing. Nothing happened, no development came. The silence, the inactivity, was working on all of us, the strain of tension becoming close to unbearable.

_Come on, Kathryn_, I thought. Focusing, trying to send the entreaty directly to her. _You've got no time left._ _He's going to know what you've done any second now._ _Come on. Pull through for me. One more time…_

Nothing. For life-long seconds more, nothing.

I broke. "Harry, can we get a lock on–"

"_Transporter Room One to Bridge. We've got her, Commander__–__"_

_Spirits of my ancestors, Kathryn, _I wanted to spit,_ cut it a little closer next time, would you?_

"_But she's unconscious. I don't know what's wrong with her…she's not breathing too good from the sound of it…"_

"Beam her directly to sickbay," I ordered, well aware of the fact that no one else but Tuvok, the Doctor and I would know why that was. Also crisply well aware of the fact that Kashyk could so easily have added to the list of possible reasons why she wasn't conscious. At the last second, I remembered the doctor's strict instructions and added, "And go with her, Ensign." I spun on my heel. "Harry, let the doctor know she's on her way. Tom…"

"I'm ready to go the second you give the order, Commander," he cut in over me, and I knew he was. So was B'Elanna, down in Engineering. I nodded curtly, having no time to waste addressing the worried glances I was getting from the rest of the bridge crew. On the heels of the call from Transporter Room One, I couldn't really blame them. "Tuvok. Harry. Any hails coming in from over there?"

"Negative," Tuvok answered first. "No attempt at communications from the Devore ship."

Of course not. Great. So did I give the order to jump to warp now that we had her, and risk giving the Devore son of a rat Kashyk the excuse to come after us, or did I sit here, and wait for the other shoe to drop? And where the hell was the doctor's call? It should only have taken seconds to revive her. He _knew_ I'd be up here waiting on his comm. and now, so were the rest of th–

"_Sickbay to Bridge."_

"Right on time, Doctor," I answered smoothly, before anyone else could, and concealing my annoyance at how many more seconds he'd taken than I'd thought he would need. "How is she?"

"_Revived without a hitch, exactly as planned. And…demanding to be heard, incidentally."_

The doctor's dry, annoyed tone washed right over me like so much water at the next words to fill the bridge.

"_Fire up the nacelles, Chakotay,"_ she cut in over the hologram calmly, the tired, almost exhausted, muted quality of her voice something I couldn't blame on the comm. system the way I'd have liked to, _"and get us the hell out of this sector. Maximum warp."_

I held my breath, along with everyone else. Did that mean…?

"Captain?" I asked, hearing my voice echo in the thick silence on the bridge.

"_We're clear,"_ she affirmed, the tired strain still in her voice.

_At what cost, Kathryn?_ was what I couldn't ask her over the comm. but what I wanted to know more than anything else in that moment.

"The inspector's ship is powering engines." Tuvok's steady voice informed me, confirming her assessment just as the sigh of monumental relief rippled through the command center – and with the way news traveled around here, probably already throughout the rest of the ship, too. "They are going to warp…"

"They're gone," Harry announced, confirming the end of the threat.

I felt like the only person on the entire bridge that wasn't ready to relax, and cheer, quite that easily. "Keep an eye out for them," I ordered Kim and Tuvok, nodding to Tom, who'd turned expectantly to wait for my order at Kathryn's instructions to me.

I didn't need convincing. "Go ahead," I told him. Smiling back at him because it was the right signal to send in that moment, and not because I felt it on any significant level.

"We stay at yellow alert until we cross that border," I informed them all, and their understanding nods informed me they'd heard, and taken in, my words.

The ship jumped to warp without any further preliminaries, and at least we were on the move again. Slightly more of the oppressive tension was lifted from my shoulders at that single change, and the streaking stars on the view screen replacing the ominous black war ship we'd been staring at for the past hour probably did even more to lighten the mood on the bridge, but I still wasn't entirely convinced that relief was exactly what I was going for yet.

I'd wait for the doctor's report for that. He already knew to run every test in the book on her – and then some – before even considering releasing her. She'd be there a while, and wasn't likely to go anywhere before I could take care of things up here, secure the rest of the ship and make it down there to hear the full story of what had happened. To find out what Kashyk had really wanted – _claimed_ he'd really wanted – and how she'd gotten us out of it. Again.

And, busy as I undoubtedly would be up here, working with Tuvok to keep upgrading our security precautions and battle drills, it would be a long wait, I already knew.

"But call me immediately if there's any sign of muscle pain or difficulty moving your hand, Lieutenant," I heard faintly, just as the doors to sickbay parted ahead of me to reveal Lieutenant Chapman . I wasn't surprised to see William, now that I thought back on it, as he'd been the one near that malfunctioning plasma relay in Engineering that I'd received the report on while Kathryn had been over on the ship. The fact that he was exiting Sickbay now meant the doctor had to have sterilized Sickbay already, because he hadn't been allowed to be treated by the doctor until that had happened. The scent of overly sterile air came rolling out into the corridor with him as he appeared, seeing me and quickly sidestepping to allow me to pass by him, and I nodded to him, appreciative of what I knew he'd done, which was to wait patiently for treatment out in the hall while the doctor attended to Kathryn and Parsons first.

"For the love of photonic theory, Captain, will you _please_ lie _still_?" the doctor continued from inside. Chapman didn't bother suppressing the effusive grin that broke out across his face at that, and I admit I had a little trouble not returning it as I paused, debating entering.

"We both know I'm not dying, Doctor, so lay off," came the retorting, feminine growl right on cue.

Everything _sounded_ about right in there, anyway. I relaxed by the smallest of additional fractions then.

The lieutenant leaned back, straightening. A subtle sign that I'd been standing there a beat too long. I nodded thanks and moved forward, ready to face the music.

Chapman waited for me to push almost completely past him into the room before I heard him mutter, "_Into the valley of death rode the three hundred_."

I halted in the middle of the doorway, my head snapping up in surprise. An Earth reference I couldn't quite place, but one that was easy enough to get the gist of, and at his wicked sense of humor, I found myself fighting another grudging smile – _not_ going to win me any contests in this room if either the doctor or Kathryn noticed it.

Which he'd known. I ducked my head to swallow my amusement. Chapman was a man whose company I enjoyed, from the little interaction I'd been able to have with him, and I resolved to see if I could spend more off-duty time with.

As well as to pay him back in kind someday.

Her voice took over my thoughts, something all too easily done by her. Still.

"I've spent the past three hours down here while you've been poking and prodding, scanning me for only _you_ know what, and I'd appreciate being able to check with my bridge for a status– Chakotay," she segued, softening immediately upon spotting me, "thank God." She dropped her voice a full octave as I approached, speaking out of the corner of her mouth, what she knew wasn't low enough to pass out of the realm of the doctor's hearing but had full comic effect on my behalf, "Get me out of here, please. I _promise_ to be good."

My lips were quirking again, the last of the apprehension I'd been carrying around like leaden weights on my back finally falling away at just the sight of her. She was every bit as much herself as she'd been when she'd left, and that was the best indication I could have of her condition already.

"Good, huh?" I pretended to consider. "Decent night's sleep and regular meals…_reasonable_ coffee consumption…the whole nine yards?"

She nodded, too vigorously to successfully pull off solemnly, like she was probably going for.

I pretended to consider further, but at the doctor's sharp glance, had to shake my head. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Captain," I chided.

She shot me a baleful look. "I can be good," she groused.

The doctor paused in his scans to exchange a loaded look with me, one belying all he'd been suffering down here during the past three hours, and I clamped down on the grin at the last possible second before we both turned and stared at her.

"I can be," she insisted indignantly, refusing to back down.

"And _I_ can be charmingly shy and sensitive, but _that's_ not going to happen any time soon, either," the doctor quipped dryly.

"Kathryn," I cut in before he could keep pushing her buttons, which I knew damned well he was doing on purpose as payback for how much she'd had the three of us worried back here that whole time, "we believe you." I ignored the doctor's indelicate snort. "Of course you can. Um…when you want to."

She looked vindicated, shifting on the biobed and swinging her legs over the side. Looking as if she was in preparation for getting ready to bolt out of the room. But she stayed put. "Thank you." She cocked her head. And then smiled wryly. "And _this_ conversation has taken a rather ridiculous turn, hasn't it?" she observed.

"Yes, well," the doctor huffed behind her, as he switched out his standard medical tricorder for another scanning device. "That will happen frequently when starship captains insist on behaving like unruly children about sitting still for perfectly necessary, non-invasive medical–"

"Doctor," I coughed, and slipped in between them intentionally, this time, "would you…excuse us for a moment?"

He darted a decidedly offended look at me, ignoring the glare burning into him by then from around my shoulder. "Don't you even want to hear my report?"

My eyes locked with hers, even as I pretended to direct my question to him. "Do I need to?"

All annoyance, whether feigned for custom's sake or otherwise, fled from her features, her brow relaxing and her blue eyes softening. Her hand came up to rest on my forearm, and she shook her head. "I'm perfectly all right, Chakotay. Nothing happened over there aside from a…" she paused, seeming to have to search for the right word, "an _intense_…conversation," she settled upon, finally.

I searched her eyes, and she chuckled, seeing the lingering concern as easily as if I hadn't tried to hide it, which I damn well had.

"Really. He didn't do anything to brainwash or otherwise compromise me, either – right, Doctor?" she asked, raising her voice and somehow injecting a crisp, warning tinge right into the middle of its pleasant overtones.

He nodded, rolling his eyes. Apparently at his wit's end with her.

Which I could so easily understand, really, but he knew the routine. I had to back her position, if anyone's. I didn't let my sympathy for him show in the slightest. "Okay," I acknowledged simply. "Good. Anything else we should be concerned about?"

The EMH paused. Looking around the room, his eyes flickering to the ceiling. "Here?" he asked, as if in surprise.

I nodded. "This is one of the rooms we're most confident about, Doctor. Go ahead."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Very well, Commander. I can tell you that the captain is in fine health…as fine as she ever is. I've treated her for Bolian flu, and she's no longer a carrier of the active virus. However, Captain," he informed her seriously, "you should know that from this point forward, your body will have somewhat of a natural defense against the virus, having been exposed to it once already."

"Duly noted," I heard her acknowledge faintly.

My eyes had darted unwittingly to the biobed at the far side of the room, where Ensign Parsons looked a little green around the gills, despite the fact that he'd been given a sedative, and I winced.

"He'll be all right, Doctor?" Apparently, Kathryn's thoughts had been in line with my own, and as I glanced down at her, I could see her eyes fixed on Parsons, as well. She grimaced.

"He's fine, Captain," the EMH was swift to assure. "He was exposed to the virus, and Commander Chakotay's order that no one be allowed in the transporter room until it's sufficiently cleared of any trace of the virus will ensure that no one else will be exposed. The ventilation ducts were sealed in preparation for your arrival back on the ship, insuring that no one else has come into contact with the virus, either." He looked to me, and I nodded.

"It's done. We initiated decontamination protocols the minute the two of them beamed to Sickbay."

"Good. I've completed the decontamination of Sickbay, as well. The ship is clear of any threat of further accidental spreading of the pathogen."

"I'm glad to hear it." Her eyes swung from the doctor back to me. "I hadn't wanted to cut it so close. If Kashyk had waited any longer to beam me back, he'd have been infected, too. And then who knows what the consequences would have been…"

There was a hint of reprove to her words, and I knew very well what they centered around, even if I wasn't about ready to get into that argument with her again…anytime soon. I glanced at the floor, pulling at my ear and pointedly acting like I hadn't even heard her. I damned well wasn't going to let her go ahead with her own plan, which was to _actually ingest_ hemlock for the love of the spirits. I was only thankful that between the doctor, Tuvok and I, we'd managed to talk her down to the doctor's less drastic, just as effective alternative. Combined with the delayed-reaction sedative he'd added to Chell's altered, long-since dormant childhood virus, it would seem to have done the job just as well.

Because she was here now. Breathing, and alive. And I wasn't one bit sorry for that fact, either, even if I wasn't inclined to jump back into that heated debate it had taken to get her to see things our way the first time around.

The doctor, less affected by the warning signs from her, only shook his head. Disagreeing with her assessment, apparently.

To my dismay.

"No, Captain," he steamrolled bluntly, fearlessly onward. "Perhaps you missed that point during our…_disagreement_…over what method of deception to use against the Devore Inspector," and even I had to hide a smile over his diplomatic phrasing of a "disagreement" that had really erupted into near full-scale war, to my recollection, "but one of the reasons I suggested using the Bolian flu was the likelihood that it would be far less harmful to Devoran physiology than it would be to humans. From my analysis of the computer's internal scans, they carry sufficient white blood cell alterations already which would protect their immune systems from being fatally compromised by the virus. Most likely, there is some sort of Delta Quadrant analog to the Bolian flu…some virus we've not yet encountered." He started to beam, and I came to a fuller attention. "In fact, it would be fascinating to conduct a review of Devoran medical databases, to see if I could pinpoint the exact agent that would have produced such a physiological defense. Perhaps if I could–"

"Sorry, Doctor," Kathryn cut in dryly, saving us both, "but I think our window of cross-cultural exchange with the Devore…if there ever was one…has closed. Permanently."

By itself, it was an innocent enough declaration. My ears perked up at her particular phrasing, though, and I saw how she caught it, before I had to say much of anything. She nodded. "He's gone, Chakotay. And I don't believe we'll be seeing him again." She locked eyes with me, seeing that I was holding my breath for one specific judgment, one simple statement from her.

And she smiled. A smile of finality, of regret and fatigue, but most of all of relief. And triumph.

"It's over," she confirmed.

The sigh of relief I breathed then, pent up for weeks and weeks now, felt like the weight of a planet was coming off my shoulders, and an answering grin broke out across my own features.

It was finally done. _Over_.

We'd made it through.

Again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimers:** See prologue.

**Notes:** Last one before the epilogue!

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

_**Kashyk**_

_**

* * *

**_

I couldn't seem to sleep anymore, and I didn't know why. Instead, I pounded coffee and generous tumblers of _Bhanian_ liquor, more than I'd been prone to indulging in for years, and listened to Tchaikovsky on full blast in the privacy of my chambers. I should have been tired of it by now, but I wasn't. Not nearly. The song became my personal anthem, reminding me with each meter, each refrain, every agonizingly ethereal pull of strings and blow of horns, exactly what I had lost.

And it was so much more than just her or my self-respect. I'd lost my identity. My way of life. Just about every cornerstone of absolute, unbreakable truth I'd built my life upon until this moment had rotted and crumbled away beneath me with her last visit. She'd shaken me to my core. I no longer knew what was true and what wasn't. What was right and what was injustice. What was real and what had been shadow: tricks of light and arrogance playing together to deceive my too-long blind soul.

_I'm too damned old for this. Too old to be in this position in the first place, too set in my ways, too ensconced in my career path and too certain of the purity of the Devoran people to be having this kind of childish personal crisis now, _I kept telling myself. _I'm not really this confused. _

And sometimes, on particularly good days, I was able to make myself believe it for fractions at a time.

But her face refused to leave my consciousness in peace. I saw her every which way I turned. At night, especially, when the music ended and the silence descended about my ears and nothing remained of duty and routine to distract me, her image came to me, taunting me to return for her and to take what was mine. The scent of her seemed burned into my nostrils; no matter where I turned, I seemed to catch a puff of that exotic fragrance. It's like nothing I'd ever smelled before. It was the aroma of strength and sex, of fragility and control. It was maddeningly erotic, the contradictions that were her.

She beat me at my own game, yet I still wanted her. More so afterward. I hated that I hadn't just taken her then, though I knew she would have taken some persuasion. Especially once I'd revealed my deception. Oh, it wasn't that she wanted me any less after that...and she _did_ want me, of that I was certain. It's just that Kathryn had such odd notions about things like duty and honor and right and wrong. And she couldn't…or should I say _wouldn't_…come to me if it went against any of those grandiose ideals.

I should have given her the choice I had intended to give her all along: her crew's safety in exchange for her…personalservices. The only offer the captain of _Voyager_ couldn't refuse. She'd probably wanted me to. Of course I'd have been lying to her again; there's no way to keep track of individual prisoners once they've entered a relocation camp. And she would have known, by instinct as she calls it, that I lied. She seemed to see through me better than anyone. But she'd have had to take the chance I would keep my word anyway, and I knew she would have.

By then my fantasies had shifted gears. Initially, sex between us was going to be about my pleasure and her defeat. A brutal show of force and dominance and power: something I've done on many occasions with any number of _gaharay_ women. And a few men. But now, my fantasies had softened, become about her surrender. A gentler display of desire and pleasure, and, yes, also power. Always between Kathryn and I, the game has been about power. Who has it and who is being made to _think_ they have it.

When had the shift occurred for me?

Now, I knew that what I saw in her eyes was most likely regret. At the role she was playing with me. Or perhaps regret that I wasn't what I pretended to be. Either way, that I'd managed to work my way past that magnificent woman's defenses meant much more to me than it should have.

I thought it was enough. But it wasn't. Not hardly.

I thought I'd begun to hate her, to harden myself against that strange spell she seemed able to weave against me in person. That half-crazed, somewhat wary adulation I regarded her with began to sour and churn into something no less fervent in intensity but much less innocent in nature. She'd nearly managed to take _everything_ from me. After I let her go! I broke my own principles for her, something she would not have done for me, I knew. _And still, she would not leave me alone_.

Her striking alien face taunted me from the shadows, waking and sleeping. Her voice goaded me every time I should have heard only silence. _You lost_, I could hear her gloat, her husky voice echoing through the air vents of my ship. _You were out maneuvered, Kashyk. By a gaharay! You're nothing. You couldn't even stand and face me for long, could you? No. You ran, the moment you could…_

Those were times I'd smash every breakable object I could lay hands on, just to drown out that voice. Then I'd get thoroughly drunk listening to Mahler, playing it as loud as the computer would permit. It was the only way I could sleep at all. And then she'd snake into my dreams…

I awoke again from dreams haunted by her, sweat plastering the uniform I'd fallen asleep in again to every fevered centimeter of my skin, and I ground my teeth. Ripped the sweat-soaked fabric from my body, hurled it to the floor. And threw things. Smashed things, things I'd only just had replaced to begin with. And considered, for the thousandth time, simply ending this torture. By either taking her before she could cross that border, or by doing myself a favor and ending it all, here and now.

That last I seriously considered. More and more with each passing day. We shadowed her ship from a safe distance. Close, but not close enough to be detected. She still had no experience with our cloaking technology, was unaware of what to look for. I'd only given her specifications for our shielding, after all. But there were merely a few intervals left, perhaps six of her hours until she crossed our borders and was completely out of harm's way. They might follow her a few light years out of the Imperium, but leaving isn't something we do, as a rule. Soon enough, _Voyager_ would be out of danger, and I could stop playing this game with myself. Without her so close, within transportation distance, I wouldn't have to struggle so hard with temptation anymore. And she would be truly safe.

From me _and_ from my people.

I was not so lucky, but my own safety could wait, I kept telling myself. Even as I half-worked at uncovering Prax's allies – which he must have had, common sense demanded – I told myself it would be easier to work everything out and dispose of the traitors once _she_ was out of my mind and no longer foremost in my thoughts.

I still couldn't work out where Prax had sent that message. And, as no one had yet appeared, ready to take me into custody, ready to take my command, it should not have bothered me, should not have nagged at my every conscious thought the way that it did, but he had made it so that the transmission was all but impossible to trace. I'd never even known he was that skilled with the computer systems. _Hells_, I thought, scrubbing a hand over my bleary, blood-shot eyes, _he's never given a single indication of that kind of ability_. Oddly, Brex, was actually the most skilled at that sort of–

"Son of a _gaharay _mongrel_ bitch_," I swore, sitting bolt upright in the lounge chair I'd thrown myself into upon venting my physical frustration on the rest of the room. My blood was freezing up inside of my veins, stuck on that last, innocuous observation. It made _so_ much more sense.

But no. There was no way. No way in seven hells that Prax had turned one of my own personal guards into…

_Was_ there? Could I have missed that? Missed the turn in Brex's eyes, too?

My stomach was slowly sinking into my boots as I considered all that would have to mean. Brex and Jahal are my right-hand men. Brex and Jahal are the ones I trust to do the sweeps of my chambers…the sweeps for surveillance or other recording devices…

Even before I could complete those horrid, blood-curdling thoughts, an insistent bleeping came from across the room. One that should have been much, much louder, really…

The damned music. I'd been all but tuning it out by now, barely noticing it, but it came crashing back down over my eardrums in that moment, sending my anxiety levels sky-rocketing. "Pause playback," I snapped, shoving back from my chair and stalking over to the console along the left wall. Once there, my heart sunk deeper into the floor at the particular locale of that insistent, now-properly-loud bleeping on the screen. At the color of it and at the color's meaning.

A message. _Another_ message was being sent, right now, from deep within the bowels of my own ship. There should never be a message sent that I don't know about beforehand, haven't personally cleared. _Never_. And I was certainly not consulted about this one, which apparently necessitated being sent in the dead of night when I was _sleeping_…

Supposed to be sleeping.

I didn't bother with dressing again, aside from my pants, which I still had on, only bothering to fasten them as I made my way out of the doors. At the last second, I'd paused by the bed to remove my hand-held disruptor from its secure, hidden spot just behind the headrest, the cool weight of its metal handle feeling just right, comforting in the palm of my hand. _Just in case_, I mused silently to myself.

The corridor was deserted, and that was the second sign that what was transpiring was not above board. But the door wasn't even closed. The speaker and the recipient of the forbidden transmission laughed in unison, the first thing I heard as I rounded the corner to the science station control room. Which also should have been completely deserted this time of night. Someone in the room rumbled something as yet unintelligible as I drew closer to the infraction of protocol unfolding within that room.

More laughter. This time, it sent chills of absolute disbelief coursing through me.

Juryk. It was Juryk's laughter, and I would know it anywhere. I should. _That_ was who the second voice belonged to. And the situation had taken a deadly seriously turn. Whoever was in that room was communicating with _Juryk_.

My mind was suddenly abuzz with a million thoughts, half formed and otherwise as all blood drained from my face, which felt red-hot even as my fingers and feet turned to the temperature of space-frigid ice. Prax's words played over and over again in my mind. _He's in love with her. He's in love with her. He's in love with her…_

_No_! Violently, I flashed back to twenty years ago, when we were younger. To the cause of all this discord sown between us since, and the memories are as crisp, as burned into my brain today as they were all those years ago…

_It's late. We're already half-toasted as we stagger into the receiving room, knocking over priceless vases and shattering on__c__e of them. Belatedly remembering that my mother must be asleep upstairs and noise like this could wake her, if she hasn't taken one of the sedatives the physicians supply her with nowadays to help her sleep. Forgetting it just as quickly. I make no effort to clean the mess, merely shuffle some of the shattered alloy into the corner with my boot as I call for lights, ushering my four companions into the room. They enter laughing, taunting me for my unsteadiness, but it's been some time since I've indulged the way we have been all day. A plant falls clean out of its container on their entry, making another mess, but that, too is ignored. We spread out, some of them dropping casually into seats, cushions worth more than their entire lives. We continue pondering sending out for some of the local women to entertain us. It's been two years since any of us had the benefit of a good Devore woman. Having just returned from a deep space mission, having already consumed our fair share of good home liquor and comfort food, it's what we're craving more than anything else by now. We're tired of filthy gaharay dalliances in dark rooms, have had our fill of those. We're more than ready for some wholesome native women to take care of us this evening. I give raucous agreement to the suggestions, completely forgetting that my mother will kill me for bringing those women into our family home, much less at this time of night. Not much caring that it will piss her off in the extreme. _

_She always forgives me._

"_Hello."_

_It surprises me __–__ all of us. The voice, young and feminine, is completely out of place. We all pause, halted in our drunken revelry to behold the slight figure appearing at the bottom of the steps, pulling a light robe over her sleeping gown. Through the double vision, it registers that she is an enchanting figure indeed. _

_The girl smiles invitingly. Sweetly. Innocently. "You must be Kashyk. Juryk's told me all about you. I'm sorry he's not here to greet you. He wanted to introduce us, but he was called away on patrol this morning. He should be back in a few intervals."_

_I wrack my drunken brain for a long moment. Staring at the vision before me. Trying to place what a young, innocent and lovely thing like her would be doing in my family home at this hour of the night. Especially one that knows or has anything to do with my fool of a younger brother. And light on it, at last. Ah yes. They'd told me…_

_I smile. A full, broad smile that reaches my eyes and beyond. "And you must be my brother's intended." The intricate, braided chain she wears around her slim, pale neck confirms this now that I notice it. It nestles between delightfully enticing, firm young breasts. _

"_Illyia. Yes," she smiles in return. Innocently. So innocently. _

_Gods but she's lovely. So pure. So naïve. And she smells enticing, fresh, clean, as she steps forward, embracing me by custom upon our first meeting. _

_I fold her into my embrace. Noting the soft, obliging curvature of her cool body against me. Grinning over her head at the others, who are watching with keen, fascinated interest. "I've heard all about you. But I was not told that you were so…lovely," I note._

_She blushes charmingly as I allow her to pull back from me, keeping my gloved hands on her slender shoulders. She steps back. "You must be parched, Kashyk. You've had a long journey." She beams at me, then at my guests. "I'll get you some refreshments, if you want to sit back down and rest?"_

"_Thank you, Illyia. You're most kind." I smirk more than smile now as she turns to leave us. Missing entirely the predatory glint in my eye. The glint in the eyes of my companions as we pass a meaningful, drunken look between us while she disappears into the next room._

"_Shame Juryk's not here," Tanax growls not-quite-under his liquored breath as he jams a hard elbow into my side. "Perhaps you'll have to initiate her into the family for him in his absence, eh?"_

_Soft, broken but collective laughter fills the room. I turn to him. Shove him away from me, watching him stagger back before regaining his unsteady footing as the others rise with varying degrees of difficulty. Grinning hungrily, my eyes darting back to the archway my brother's delightfully sweet little intended has just disappeared through. _

_As one, we move to follow her. _

I shook myself hard out of the reflection, forcing myself to focus on the present as Juryk's sharp voice penetrated through the possession the past had taken on me.

An alien sensation began to creep outward from my chest. Phantom fingers of bone-chilling ice massaged my veins and made me shiver in spite of myself. In that instant, I knew fear. True fear even worse than I had upon discovering Prax in the communications room over a week ago. Because now I saw that I might live through this mutiny _someone_ on my crew had staged. Juryk would never kill me. The Imperium might, but Juryk wouldn't participate in something like that. And they would never expect him to. Killing a member of your own immediate family is deeply taboo.

Whether I wanted to or not, I would probably live through this.

But unless I could pull off some kind of unholy miracle, Kathryn would not.

"…_really has no idea, then? That the whole ship is turned against him?_"

My eyes narrowed in hatred as those words snapped me out of my thoughts. What? Impossible! I knew my own ship, had my finger on the pulse of its lifebeat, always. Never! They couldn't have turned the whole ship…I'd have _known_ it.

"No. Not a clue. He wanders around in a daze most of the time. Holes himself up in his chambers, drinking and sleeping."

That, unfortunately, I could not deny. I had been. Thanks to _her_.

Another piercing bark of laughter. _"I confess I didn't really see it when I met her, but she must be one hell of a piece of work if she has him so far up his own neurosis he can't see what's coming. He never would have slipped like this before."_

"It's…unfortunate, Inspector. He used to be the best. I thought if anyone would be in line for Commodore Rennick's position, it would have been him."

"_Well. Unfortunately for Kashyk…that promotion is going to me now," Juryk sneered._

"I've already informed the rest of the crew about _their_ impending promotions."

"_Good. I like the way you think, Jahal. It'll keep everyone calm and…not likely to do anything foolish, like come to his aid later."_

Jahal. My other personal guard. If he was in on this little atrocity, then so too was Brex. That was no longer in question.

"That's what I thought, too. But make sure you don't leave us hanging for long, Inspector. He's still dangerous. If he should discover what we've done…our throats would be slit faster than we could blink."

They had that much right. Only for logistical reasons, it was going to be a nice, lethal blast of energy fossilizing their insides, instead of the clean, swift cut of a blade.

They would never be able to _touch_ her, let alone me. They wouldn't get the chance, I decided, beginning to retain some of my famous cool and to gather my shaken wits about me. If I killed Juryk's allies before they could take me, then Juryk would have to catch me before he would do anything else…

I crept silently, stealthily up to the doorframe and peeked around the edges. There, in a small circle of traitors, sat _both_ of my personal guards – along with several others. Manna. Gitrus. Jax. All of them, men I would have trusted with more sensitive information than most until this moment. The urge to slay them all, strike them down where they sat in gluttonous enjoyment of something I would never allow to come to pass tightened every muscle in my electrified body, and I tensed in preparation to power forward into that room and break up this little coup right now, to nip it in the bud. Violently.

"You'll be waiting, then? Just inside the nebula?"Gitrus sounded worried_. _

_And he damned well should be, because his head is about to be blown right off his mutinous shoulders,_ I avowed darkly to myself. My lips were curling into a feral snarl across my hardened features.

But the words he'd spoken tugged at me, sunk in belatedly. Damn my life. _Inside the nebula_. The one Kathryn was undoubtedly intending to use as additional buffer against possible aggressors because of its sensor impenetrability, if I knew her at all. I'd given her the specifications of that phenomena earlier, had assured her it was safe. And her ship appeared to be intending to pass right through it, was heading directly for it.

And Juryk's ships were already there – my God – _waiting_ for her.

I'd have to warn her. _Immediately_.

"_Yes." _Juryk's reedy voice, which had annoyed me from childhood, intoned idly._ "We're here. Waiting for them."_

"You'll have to be," Brex chimed in, his gruff, deep voice recognizable at once. "We can't do this without the Imperium's support. Once he realizes…without backup, we're dead men."

Brex had always been the more intelligent of the pair of them.

And they were already dead men. They just didn't know it. When that transmission ended, I was going to end _them_. All five of them. And I may have been finished, but none of these five would ever have the satisfaction of enjoying those _promotions_ they so casually allotted themselves now. Juryk, I would simply deal with afterward. Though of course I couldn't kill him.

Pure rage slammed through me, powerful bolt by powerful bolt. I was insulted by their gall. Their unmitigated _gall_–

"_Don't worry. It's not just my three. We've more than enough ships, now, since the Commodore sent his reinforcements." _Another laugh, even as I froze up in preparation to round the corner.

What? _No_.

I shook my head, hardly even aware of it, unable to process that crushing final blow. No. No, that was _impossible_. If the Imperium itself had been contacted…

No!

"_We're also monitoring their ships communications now that they're in range. If he should discover you somehow in the interim, we'll catch any transmission he might send them. And we'll move to intercept immediately."_

So much for contacting her. The images of what would happen to her, to her beloved ship were overwhelming me in a blazing torrent. That I would lose my command, my houses, my wealth, and my wife and children – all that I'd worked my entire life to achieve, along with my memories and identity when I was undoubtedly sent for reprogramming – all of it took second tier. What I knew they – Juryk, in particular – would do to _her_ was gut-wrenching. Soul-destroying.

He has been waiting almost his entire life for this moment. For _this_ woman. Simply because of what he believed she meant to me.

"_I've been put in charge of the seizure of the gaharay ship, since it was I who brought Kashyk's betrayal to the Emperor's attention in the first place. The mission is under my command, and I have his full support."_

"Congratulations," Manna was swift to flatter, as always, moving himself up to the top of the death list immediately.

"_Thank you. I think it goes without saying that I'm going to enjoy this immensely. I confess, I can't wait to see his face when we wake him in a just a few short hours and present him with what's left of his__LOVE."_

More laughter, the tone of it insidious and vile as I swallowed hastily. Doing the math. That many ships…even joining together with _Voyager_, we wouldn't be able to win that kind of a firefight. _If _I could find anyone that was willing to fire on Imperial ships, fear of my wrath or no…!

"You're going to see to her personally, I assume?" Jahal sneered, and in his voice was more venom than I'd ever have ascribed to his usually passive nature. It sickened me.

Jahal had no idea how close to the mark he was on that prediction, or why.

But I did.

"_Oh yes. I've been ordered to make an example of her. And I'll have help, but yes. I plan on taking an…active role in her disposal, don't worry. I'll even let the five of you watch, if you're interested," _he boasted disgustingly.

It was only the smallest of daggers slicing deep into my gut. For it was simple confirmation of what I'd known already, from the instant I heard his snide little voice laughing inside that room. Confirmation of what he would do to her. What he would, without question, find a way to make me know he was doing to her, if he could. And with Imperial help, from the emperor himself from the sound of it, I knew full well that he could.

Unless I could find a way to stop it, somehow.

There was no need to hear any more of their insidious planning. I knew where Juryk was, where the ships were. And I knew what they were planning to do to Kathryn. Killing them now, when they'd as much as said there were numerous others on the ship on their side, involved in this unthinkable and abhorrent setup, was just as dangerous as letting those five live.

For the moment.

I fled to my chambers, sick and enraged and admittedly more fearful than I'd ever been in my life.

And hardly an ounce of that fear was for myself.

I slammed into my chambers, tucking my weapon inside the top edge of my pants. Stalking directly up to the little ledge above my console, pausing for half an instant to drag the chair at the computer terminal over so that I would be tall enough to reach. Feeling around for just a half second, I located the expected device. A curse exploded from my lips as I threw the tiny little surveillance imager to the floor, grinding it to dust under the heel of my boot.

So they'd seen. The entire little interlude with her in my chambers. My acceding final defeat to her and letting her go. My subsequent disposal of Prax's body. _Everything_. There would be no getting out of this. Not for myself, and not, my inner reason tried to make me see, for Kathryn. Not for her ship…

I refused to listen to it. Refused to concede defeat to the five bloodless rat traitors that had been assembled down in that room. To Juryk, most especially. There had to be a way.

Aware of the fact that I had almost no time left, that Kathryn had almost no time left – and no idea of the danger she was in at this moment, I found myself thinking of anything, any way I could possibly save her.

Nothing came. I found, too, that I would have given anything, perhaps even a limb to have her here at my side in this moment. To have her sharp, keen mind helping me to formulate a way out of this untenable situation.

Still, nothing came.

At a loss for ideas, I grabbed the ice cold pot of coffee I'd had prepared for myself earlier that morning and poured out the remaining quarter-liter of it. Gulping it down and ignoring the way the dregs wanted to stick in my throat. Reviewing everything Prax had said in his message, and combining it with all that had transpired thus far while she'd been in our space. Grasping at anything, at sickly seedlings of ideas, desperate or not, and more often than not discarding them just as swiftly as they'd formed. Painfully conscious of the way time was ticking by, and how every second of it was possibly time she, and I, did not have to waste with me standing here like an idiot, drinking _coffee_.

Kathryn's life depended entirely on me in that moment. There had to be a way, there was always a way. Even if the way was distasteful, unthinkable and against every law of common society, there was _always_ a solution to every problem. That was something of my motto in life, and it had not yet failed me. It had almost, _almost_ led me to that wormhole. My gut clenched in swift realization as it dawned on me.

The wormhole. It was, ultimately, the key in all of this.

As well as what, _exactly_, it was that those traitors knew. What they could _prove_, not what they believed. _That_ was my starting point. Damning as it all looked to their eyes, was there a way to spin it, a way to come out of this all with my career intact – and her life spared?

There was always a way, there was _always_ a solution. Whether it was a moral or vaguely un-appalling solution, or not.

Juryk was fueling this thing, was the driving force behind it all. I saw now. He had contacted Prax at some earlier junction to plant the seeds of discord in hopes of sowing them among my ranks. But it was me, my behavior that had caused Prax to sway to his side. To betray me. He never would have, if he didn't believe…if I hadn't mistakenly led him to believe that I had feelings for Kathryn. And Juryk would never be pushing this so hard if he wasn't certain of it now, as well.

It was he who was going after Kathryn, and his concerns had nothing to do with whether I'd betrayed the empire or not. I knew this full well, even if the others did not. The emperor had not given that order about making an example out of her of his own accord. That had been _all_ Juryk's doing. He was only going after her because I cared for her.

So then. Logically, he would back off if and only if…

If I could convince all of them, Juryk especially, that I didn't. That I'd never cared for her but had been making her _believe_ that I did. For the sake of getting the secrets of that wormhole, which could _only_ be argued to be for the good of the Devoran People…

The ghostly tendrils of a plan began to form, even as my new psyche, the man that I had become viscerally rejected it. It was abhorrent, and it was sickening. But if they believed I didn't care for her. Wasn't falling for her, hadn't ever been…

They'd seen all of what had transpired in my chambers between us, and it was galling, but I forced myself to go over it all again in my mind. The last time we met. All that had happened. She had told me she'd ingested the toxin, and then she'd lapsed into unconsciousness. She'd warned me that going after her again would only prompt her to take it once more. Could I claim – convincingly – that I'd been waiting, trailing along behind her undetected so that I could surprise her at the last possible moment? When she least expected it, and thereby prevent her from getting to more of that devious toxin? Could I pretend…convincingly…that I didn't care what I had to do to get it? That I'd been unaware of the little mutiny they'd all been staging behind my back this whole time and that my own timing just happened to preempt their insidious, scheming machinations?

It was possible. There were the dying dregs of a chance.

But I would have to make this the performance of a lifetime. Anything less and my feeble endeavor would be seen through, my desperate attempt at deception would be revealed immediately, and Juryk would prevail and have his way. Damn his soul to all seven hells for eternity!

I couldn't help but understand it – now.

I still regret it. It had been…unnecessary. Juryk would have killed me all those years ago. Just as I would kill him now if it would spare Kathryn what I knew he was planning.

I can still remember the look in his eyes when he noted me stirring. When he realized that I was awakening to find him there. His hand had still clutched the bloodied blade that had dispatched my men. He'd carefully placed his dead lover on the floor and made for me in that instant. He might even have been able to dispatch me in my hungover condition. Had not our mother stumbled on the scene in that moment…had not she intervened…

Until recently, I believed half of his resentment due to the fact that she had always favored me. That she protected me, even in that instance. She had been the one to tidy up the mess the two of us had left behind, and she had threatened his inheritance if he should utter so much as a word of the incident to anyone outside of our home. He never did forgive her for that…

Yet now. Now, I understood. I knew why he hadn't forgiven me. Why he still burned for vengeance. He has been waiting for this opportunity ever since. It was what I would have done in his place. What he would do to Kathryn now if he got the chance would rival anything I had so callously, drunkenly done to his lover all those years ago.

She wouldn't live through his vengeance. My only chance, _Kathryn's_ only chance…was to make Juryk believe he had been mistaken in his assessment of my feelings for her.

But could I do it? Could I convince them I'd been planning this all along? That I'd never intended to let her leave, but needed to win her trust – truly – win her trust in order to be able to extract the information from her at a later date?

They would never believe it. Not unless there was a way to actually make them believe I had no feeling for her. And I didn't think that I could do that convincingly.

They would be expecting me to harm her. Brutally. Going by any indications from all of my previous decades of ingrained, consistent behavior with _gaharay_ transgressors – God help me, I was all but infamous for my brutality. Smacking her around a little…would never cut it. If I wanted any _one_ of them to think that I was genuine in not caring for her…my behavior would have to be abhorrent. Disgusting.

Cowardly and vicious.

I was almost violently ill just thinking it. I shook my head fiercely to rid myself of the taint of those unthinkable thoughts. I could never do what was required to convince them of that. _Never_ – not…anymore.

No. There had to be another way, I just wasn't _thinking_ hard enough…

Where _was_ she, when I needed her? She would help me to find a way, a better way than that. _She_ would be able to come up with a plan in record time, one that would probably put any plans I had to shame…

I heard silence. Only silence.

Fractions passed. Agonizing, torturous fractions, in which the coffee was long since gone and the silence that had descended over my ears was deafening, because, in it, I could hear the wild thumping of my heart, pounding away inside of my damned and convicted chest. After several full moments of this, time seemed to grind to a halt, and I had the required moment of absolute clarity.

There _were_ no other options. No amount of begging or pleading for her life, her dignity, was going to spare her now. This was too far gone, the conspiracy too deep. They would be unmoved by any entreaty or possible trickery or bargaining from me. Juryk wanted his fractions of flesh, the flesh and the torment that by all rights I owed him, and this he would have, from her, and from no other. And even worse than what he would do to her, from what I knew would be her point of view, was that he would take her ship. Imprison her crew. Before he killed her – made me watch him kill her.

Unless I stepped in and somehow managed to control the fallout. Unless I stepped in and convinced them…all of them…that she didn't matter. It was too late to cry and to regret and bemoan my losses. Too late to whine and howl and protest to the gods of the universe about the wretched unfairness of it all, of the absolute _wrongness_ of the fact that it was me who had to do it.

Too late to worry about whether or not I could do this. Whether I had it in me. Too late to think to myself that I could never stand to see the absolute contempt, the hatred in her eyes reflecting back at me the way I was undoubtedly going to when I appeared on her ship and…

Too late, all of it.

It was Kathryn's only chance…her ship's only chance. And I already knew that her ship was everything to her.

And she would _want_ me to do it, I told myself in addition. If it was the choice between having to harm her, significantly harm her, even, and losing the ship, the deaths of her beloved crew…I knew without a doubt what she would want me to do. _Urge_ me to do. Letting Juryk take her ship was what would destroy her most utterly.

She was possibly the strongest woman I knew, had ever encountered. Nothing I might do to her would be something she couldn't recover from. _Nothing_. So long as I left that ship and crew unharmed at the end of it all. I held onto that one certainty. Used it to fortify my gathering resolve.

I rose. Forcing myself to function, to begin to prepare, even as I thought about the best way to do this. Going alone was my preference. But it would never fly. Not with her if I tried to explain it, if I told her why I needed those wormhole coordinates. And not with them, the traitors. They wouldn't trust what one of them hadn't seen with his own eyes. My recounting of what I had done to her wasn't going to matter.

Not to Juryk. He would never buy it. I would have to take witnesses with me, I realized with growing unease. Unbiased witnesses, to the Imperium's point of view – Devore. Non _gaharay_.

Not to mention the rest of her crew probably wouldn't let me near her alone…and that thought brought me up short.

What if she wasn't alone? It was well into evening now on _Voyager_, I knew, but…she worked late. Very late, sometimes clear through until early morning. If she was anywhere else on the ship…anywhere that I couldn't get to her in time…her crew would defend her, when they realized my intentions. If I couldn't get her alone…

I would just have to beam to her quarters and pray that she was there. And alone. That she couldn't put up too much of a fight. If she wasn't there…

There was nothing I could do about that now. I would have to proceed as if she was and deal with it when the time came if she was not.

First, before doing anything, I would have to clean myself up. I could display no weakness, no hint of uncertainty or unusual behavior. When I called Brex and Jahal into this room in a few moments…and I would have to, I'd already decided moments ago, for there to be any appearance that I did not know exactly what they had been doing behind my back in recent days. Because leaving the ship without them was abnormal in the extreme…but _when_ I called them, I must be entirely above scrutiny. Entirely cool and put-together, my appearance circumspect and flawless, as usual.

The Non-Hydro Cleansing pod was finished with me in less than two fractions, and I used the time I spent standing, ensconced within its sterile walls to plan. I'd need drugs. Many, if I wanted to pull this off. Not the least of which was probably going to be the one I'd used on her initially. The one I'd sworn never to subject her to again. I couldn't see any other way of getting her to tell me those coordinates. Whether I told her the truth or not. There were some things she would sacrifice her crew for, I knew, and this was one of them.

And I'd need the antidote then, as well. In order to avoid killing her with it because her physiology was decidedly incompatible. I'd learned that the hard way the first time. And I'd spent quite a bit of time trying to make up for lost time on that abhorrent mistake…

Wasted, now. For what I was about to do to her…was now forced…to do to her…

There could be no forgiveness this time. She was going to hate me, despise, loathe me from this moment on. At least before, I thought I'd ended on relatively good terms. And it mattered to me, that. More than I possibly could have believed it ever would have.

It was gone, a thing of the past. A foolish, fantasy notion I must leave behind in the vented plasma exhaust now. Something I should have left behind long ago. I should, by all rights and accounts, by all standards of judgments, only have done what I was about to do to her now long ago.

Why then…did the very notion fill me with such violent sickness? Why did the thought of what awaited me on that ship…what awaited her at my own hand on that ship…fill me with such self-loathing? Such self-disgust?

Grimly, sick to the core of my wretched and confused being, I selected a new uniform, dressing swiftly if mechanically. Noting the shaking of my hands and forcing them to still, to steady. That would betray me as swiftly as anything. Donning my accessories intently, methodically, my weapons harness and gloves. Lastly, my boots. To fetch them from the bathroom, I had occasion to pass by my own reflection in the mirror. I stopped. Starting at what I saw there, and at the circles under my eyes. The _bleakness_ of those eyes. My hair, usually plastered into submission about my skull, spiked in wild tufts every which way. I realized I would have to attend to it, of course.

My hair took slightly longer than I'd have liked, felt I had time for in order to arrange to perfection, but after a tedious battle it capitulated into some semblance of order. I strode purposefully back out into my office area, clean and cloaked in an appearance of refreshed alertness. In reality, the alcohol lingered in my system, causing my muscles to react to my brain's commands just a fraction too slowly.

_No one shall notice_, I decided. A final appraisal, passing the mirror on my way out of the bedroom area left me satisfied enough to do what I had to do next.

Taking a seat at my desk, I scoured the database, looking at the list I'd comprised. Not _everyone_ on the ship could know, could be involved in this little conspiracy. I eliminated all individuals who had had extensive contact with Prax before he died, as well as those that normally worked shifts with Brex of Jahal, when one of them was on duty with me and the other was working normal shift at his regular post. I choose two names at random. Kurros and Frenz. They were low men on the ranks list, men I'd all but ignored until this moment. They would be puzzling choices to Brex and Jahal, but they would at least be relatively sure to still follow my orders, my commands, no matter how odd they might seem.

And they were going to seem odd, to all four officers, I already knew. But I am an eccentric man, to any who know me. Hell, to my own standards. Eccentric is more the expected of me than it is not.

Frenz and Kurros came obediently when summoned. I'd awaked both, and both certainly looked it. Kurros in particular was having difficulty stifling his periodic yawns, but I ignored it. I studied their eyes closely the moment they appeared. They were frightened, afraid that they'd been summoned for chastisement over some minor infraction or another. But both of them were absent of the kind of traitorous, too-knowing glints of wariness that I would be expecting of the other two.

What was more, they didn't question me. My explanation that I had chosen them specifically this evening to glean personal experience under my direct advisement had to have seemed cryptic at best, but neither moved to question my intentions, my destination, or my motives.

These two were still loyal. Probably because they were too stupid to be trusted with anything important or covert, but that couldn't be helped at the moment.

"Inspector? I thought you were sleeping…" Jahal was in perfect form, smoothly guileless and…oh indeed but the boy was priceless…_concerned_ as he appeared, breathless, in my doorway. He took in the other two, standing at perfect attention along the left wall, and swallowed thickly. "Is…there…something wrong, Inspector?"

I smiled ingenuously at him, just as Brex appeared, nearly stumbling into Jahal in his haste to rush into the room.

"Not at all, Jahal. It's simply time. Come. Help me make Devoran history," I entreated them in grandiose, unconcerned tenor.

Brex and Jahal exchanged looks with each other. Clearly uneasy.

"Sir?" Brex interjected, seeing no help from the other two, who simply stood, looking stout and stalwart…and confused. "I'm afraid I don't follow…what…what you mean."

"Don't you?" I returned evenly. My smile widened, even as I strode calmly to the vast storage closet of chemicals I was renowned for having acquired. I opened the double doors. "No one here _really_ thought the _gaharay_ captain we're shadowing was going to walk away with those wormhole coordinates, did they?" I watched, out of the corner of my bitterly triumphant eye the way that Jahal and Brex paled noticeably. Clucked my tongue. "Surely everyone in this room knows me…_much_ better…than that."

"I…" Brex stuttered.

He trailed off, at an obvious loss for words, and I kept my smile tight and small. And made a show of calmly selecting from my vast selection. I chose six different assortments, checking their tips and ensuring their security and integrity. The ease of dosage. Trying to account for all possibilities that Kathryn might throw at me, and also at the last minute, eyeing one in particular I'd never had occasion to need to use on myself. And prayed to hell already I wouldn't have occasion to use on myself this evening, but I took it anyway, slipping it into the pocket at my thigh, where it wouldn't be too obtrusive, in case I didn't need it.

I turned, gesturing to the door. "Well?" I asked them all. Staring most pointedly, piercingly at the two soldiers I'd sooner have gutted than stomached the presence of in my personal chambers. "Are the four of you coming, or not?"

Kurros and Frenz moved forward immediately, well used to not having the benefit of me explaining my decisions to them, but Brex and Jahal lingered.

"Sir," Jahal finally entreated, taking a single step forward. "It's the middle of the night."

"As it is on _Voyager_," I informed him, pointing a gloved index finger at his chest with a chuckle. "And they've had no experience with our cloaking technology. They only know to look for refractive shielding, and they have no idea we've circled back to shadow them. She won't be expecting me to appear out of nowhere, and especially not in the middle of the night – are you following this now, or do I need to lay it out for you more plainly?"

They were used to my sarcasm, my caustic demoralizations, fortunately. The fact that this one was genuine and more bitter than most hopefully slipped by, unnoticed.

"I…" Jahal swallowed hastily. Still pale. "Of course not, Inspector. It's…brilliant. I just…didn't expect…_now_."

"So?" I pressed. Losing my patience more and more with each passing fraction that was slipping away under his hedging.

"I…does no one else know what you're planning?"

"I'm unaccustomed to clearing my every move with my own staff, officer," I growled, the warning rumble of it advising him of the dangerous waters he was now treading. "Are you suggesting that I should have to?"

"Of course not, Inspector," Brex finally stepped in for him, drawing my attention to him. "It's only…you _must_ allow us to at least inform Manna. As head of Integrity, he needs to know that we're boarding the enemy vessel." His voice was soothing, calm and gentle. He was clearly trying his best to reason with me. And practically soiling his uniform pants with fear at the position I'd placed him in now. There was no way for him to _properly_ tip off Juryk, or anyone else. Unless he wanted to unveil his deceit to me, now, and risk me or the other two killing him, he had no choice but to play along. And to accompany me to _Voyager_.

I considered his request. Knowing that, by making it, he hoped Manna would inform Juryk, and in some ideal world Juryk would come rushing to his rescue before I could discover his deception…or it looked like he was in on mine. On my side, aiding me.

But that nebula was three intervals away. I would order _Voyager_ brought to a halt, and that would give me three intervals before anyone from Juryk's ship could reach me. Three intervals time was more than enough to accomplish my necessary, crucial goal.

The others aboard ship would be too afraid to follow me to _Voyager_, to try and stop me by themselves. They were primarily cowards. All of them.

I nodded. It _was_ protocol to inform Manna, and not one I'd ever felt the need to deviate from before. "All right. But hail him on our way. We're leaving immediately."

I gestured them down the hall in front of me. The doors hissed shut behind me as I propelled my stiff body forward into the corridor, my legs fortunately needing no instruction from me, on this, what felt like my own death march I was setting now. They traced their route by habit to the end of the corridor and to the right, toward the correct station...

As Inspector, I have the best chambers onboard. It's merely three corridors from the command room and only two and a half turns to J-9. Same deck, all. So it comes to pass that only a moment after our departure, we're almost at the transporter room, Brex making his ridiculous hail to Manna, who pretended to be awoken from sleep and bewildered to be called at this hour of the night. I ignored their acting, pretended to be unaffected by it, or their strange behavior.

I began to input the proper sequence that would deposit us into Kathryn's living room, aboard _Voyager_. Having to compensate for their shielding matrix, which I'd gained access to easily enough from their database. It had been hidden, very well, in fact, but there. And I'd learned those specifications some time ago. It took several longer fractions for the algorithm I added to our scans to land on the correct deviation of frequency she was using now, but, after a moment, it did, and I would be able to beam us through _Voyager_'s relatively unimpressive shields.

I was not entirely surprised to hear the viewscreen to the communications console switch on behind me as I entered the final sequence, hardly even tensed by much to hear the reedy growl coming from behind me.

"_Kashyk_."

I feigned surprise. "Juryk," I acknowledged pleasantly, my stomach sinking. So he knew. Manna must have _run_ to contact him, that son of a _gaharay_ rodent…

I smiled tightly. "May I ask what the devil you're doing on my view screen, breaking into _my_ ship's official channels?" I drawled calmly.

"What the hells do you think you're doing, Kashyk?" he demanded in an incensed hiss. And he looked…just this side of upset, I decided, affording him a bare glance. Well good. At least I would have that, then, when this was over. Even if he won, I would now have at least that one instant of unnerving him.

I looked to Brex and Jahal and raised my eye-ridges. They failed to respond with even a flicker of emotion, their faces frozen masks as they stared straight ahead. _Cowards_. But it was also vaguely rewarding to watch them squirm, so uncomfortably caught between how to play _this_ little scene out now.

Someone shoved Juryk aside from the view screen, bearing down into the frame as he leaned over, pressing his face close to the imager, and I did blink to lay eyes upon none other than Commodore Rennick himself.

"Commodore," I acknowledged pleasantly, recovering. Swallowing subtly to moisten my suddenly dry throat. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"_You already know the answer to that, Kashyk,_" he barked grimly. Rennick, the dirty old cudgel, always barked. It was the only volume he had, by all accounts. _"Clearly, you know."_

I shook my head, as if disinterested. Checking over my weapons, rechecking my drugs. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Commodore. But, I have to ask your forgiveness, for as you can see," I gestured around at the transporter room we stood in, "we're just on our way out."

"_Don't do this, Son,"_ he ordered. Almost paternal in his command. It was not unusual. He had a particular fondness for me_. _

Or did, before today.

"_I demand that you return to your chambers, now, and wait for our ships to rendezvous with you. You need help, Kashyk."_

Again, I raised my ridges. Appearing shocked. Or so I hoped.

But a good lie is always best executed when some part of yourself believes it. I threw myself into the performance. Making myself believe my own innocence.

"Ships?" I repeated. "Help? Whatever for, Commodore? Are you sending reinforcements? Thank you. I don't think they'll be necessary, but I do appreciate the thought. And I'm glad to see you, by the way. I believe you'll be…very interested…in what I will have for you shortly." I glanced over at the console as if something had alerted me to. Shrugged apologetically. "See you soon, Commodore."

I leaned over and cut the transmission, right in the middle of his opening mouth and reddening face. Turned back to regard the four officers standing on the transporter platform, waiting. The now four very green-looking officers, and I sighed.

"As you can see, I'm sure they're a little confused about what's been happening all this time with regard to _Voyager_. But if the four of you have learned anything from serving under me, it should be that stellar results can only come from playing the most sensitive information close to the chest. We're going to beam over to that vessel now, and I am going to have a little…chat," I smiled widely, the way that I'd been used to doing with ease, "with Captain Janeway. When I'm finished, I will be in possession of the formula that will enable us to locate the Brenari wormhole at each of the next locations it opens to. Once I have that, I will be the single most important man…well…in the entire Devore Imperium. My career will be made, and no one will care how I eventually arrived at that information."

I could see their eyes were still wary, but I had swayed at least Frenz and Kurros. I turned my piercing stare to Brex and Jahal primarily. "When that happens, I assume the four of you will want me to remember you as the men who made that extraction possible? No?"

I'd framed it in a way that they could not refuse.

Jahal swallowed. Still looking green. And so did Brex. But Kurros and Frenz looked convinced. Even…eager, and I knew then why.

For of course they were now expecting one of my infamous shows. Why wouldn't they be? I had yet to disappoint in that regard. I began to second guess consuming that third tumbler of liquor several hours beforehand. Because I was feeling decidedly ill and shaky.

"Let's go, then," Kurros exclaimed, his excitement building. "What are we waiting for?"

"What, indeed?" I murmured. I smiled frostily. What I hoped looked expansively. Input the activation sequence, with a five fraction time lag. Stepped up to the platform. Turned to face the controls. And closed my eyes as I felt the dematerialization begin to take place.

And told myself, again, that I had no choice. That I had no choice but to completely destroy her now.

It was our only hope.


	15. Epilogue

**Disclaimers:** See prologue

**Notes:** Taking a moment to thank Cheshire yet again, not only for her beta efforts of this entire massive thing, but also for her life-saving help with this epilogue. A good portion...almost half of this last bit...was her. Thank you, Chesh! And thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story and reviewed!

* * *

**_Epilogue_**

_*morning after Warhead, just on the verge of Equinox*_

_

* * *

_

**Janeway**

**

* * *

**

My hand shakes as I reach for the newly-formed cup of coffee in my replicator tray. I hesitate, flexing my fingers as though that will solve the problem and use my other hand to grasp the warm mug instead. It isn't shaking any less, but I choose not to notice. I didn't sleep well last night. Not that that's any kind of surprise. I can't honestly remember the last time I truly slept.

Turning my chair so that I can sink into its embrace, my mind is stuck on how we…_I_…had once again almost lost my ship yesterday.

No, not lost…_destroyed_. I'd almost given the order to destroy _Voyager_. With all hands onboard. Because I'd told myself I'd had no choice. No choice but to sacrifice the lives of all those I hold most dear.

And for what? Why? Because some programmed weapon was so damned smart it had effectively taken away my options. Because it wanted to reignite some obsolete war that its own people had long ago abandoned. It was ridiculous.

It was chilling.

And yet – once again – I'd been prepared to kill us all just to stop it. To save the lives of others. People I'd never even met. Looking at my log entry from last night, it seems…plausible. I would have killed everyone on board _Voyager_ simply to save the lives of strangers on some random planet we've never even been to. Starfleet would have approved my decision. I'd have gone down in the records as a tragic hero, dragging my crew with me by default. Through no choice, or fault, of their own.

And why not, really? It was a good enough cause. Die to save the lives of thousands of others. Kill…willfully slaughter my own crew, my family, to save the lives of an entire race of people. Sounds almost noble, doesn't it?

And I've murdered before for less cause than that.

I'd killed Kashyk simply to prevent him from shaming me in front of the crew. It is, of course, arguable that I was not in my right mind at the time. But even if that were true, then it still wasn't less than a couple of hours later that I'd bluffed the new Devore lieutenant with the self-destruction of _Voyager_. I'd told him that I'd rather blow up my own ship and kill my crew myself than to allow them to end in the hands of creatures like the Devore.

At least…he'd _thought_ I was bluffing.

He hadn't known me very well. I hadn't been bluffing at all. Not then. Not by that point in the evening, I wasn't.

"_Turn it off, gaharay," he ordered sinisterly._

_I ignored him and his guards with their weapons aimed at me. I even choked out a mirthless laugh as I looked him directly in the eye. "Make me," I challenged flatly._

_There'd been nothing left in me in the way of emotion anymore. Flat, hard, was all I had left. _

_He grabbed my arm, fully intent on coercing me to his bidding, to showing him how to use the formula for finding the wormhole when the computer politely reminded us that we had two minutes before the warp core overloaded and destroyed Voyager, everyone on it, and probably did significant damage to the Devore ship, as well. _

_I jerked free of his grasp and headed to my command seat. Muted pain shot through me as I relaxed into the familiar seat which felt somehow alien against me now. I could only imagine how bad it would have been without the doctor's painkillers coursing through my veins. Without his hurried, horrified and desperate attempts at patching me up before this confrontation had to take place. _

_But that specific pain, like so many other things, I was ignoring. "You have fifty-five seconds, Lieutenant," I informed him calmly. So calmly. "I suggest you leave now, while you can. Once you do, I'll extend the destruct cycle by two minute increments until we are out of Devore space. If you come near us again with your ship, or anyone else's, I'll take us all out. My own ship and crew included. If you do somehow manage to get on board again, I assure you, there is __**nothing **__you could do to me in less than two minutes to make me disengage it." _

_He smoldered at me. Darting his murderous, disbelieving gaze between me and his shrugging, growing-increasingly-alarmed subordinates. _

_I raised a cool, solitary brow. "Forty seconds." _

I think at that point he'd seen the deadness in my eyes. He'd known then that I wasn't bluffing. And considering what he'd already been a part of doing to me earlier in the evening…I'm pretty sure he realized then that what I spoke was the deadly truth. Nothing less. And he feared what I was capable of. What he himself had painstakingly helped _make_ me capable of in my own quarters earlier that night. He _should_ have feared me. In that moment, at least, he should have.

In that moment, I had been afraid of nothing. Death would have been a welcome reprieve from mere existence.

Ironic, as I had endured so much at their hands that evening only to _save_ the lives of my crew.

He'd gone. And he must have managed to convey my message to the rest of his cronies in the Imperium. We'd been left to continue on out of Devore territory. We saw no indication that they were continuing to shadow us, but we knew there were near, using whatever cloaking technology Kashyk hadn't given me. Probably trying to work out a way to come back to finish what they'd started, but they didn't have time. I kept my promise. For six hours straight, and then an additional two days to make absolutely sure, I kept resetting that sequence. Nerve-wracking for the rest of them, I'm sure, but I'd muted the audio warnings for their sakes.

And then we were through. Out. Free.

And none of my own had paid for my mistake – yet another mistake when I opted to drag us through that hostile region of space – with his or her life. It was enough for me. It was enough because it had to be. It was certainly all I had left to cling to by that point.

And now with yesterday's events, I had been willing to throw it all away yet again. My initial sacrifice that night would have meant nothing, in the end. We still wouldn't have reached Earth. I still wouldn't have fulfilled my promise to get them home.

Maybe it had always meant nothing. I'm no longer entirely sure.

Now, a slow, burning anger directed at the Delta Quadrant itself simmers deep in the pit of my stomach. How many times does this damned harsh quadrant want me to be responsible for killing my entire crew? How many times does it plan to push me to that limit, force me to make that decision? It's already happened too many times. And at least once, in another part of the universe, I'd succeeded, that I knew of.

I can only take so much. Simply getting out of bed and making my way to the bridge every day is damn near killing me. If I only had support, I think for the millionth time in this harsh quadrant. Chakotay tries, but it isn't the same. It isn't his decision, or his ultimate responsibility. It's always mine. _Only_ mine. If I had so much as another captain to share the burden with…

Wishful thinking, as I damn well know. I shake myself out of those pointless, useless and self-pitying thoughts. I'll pull through without support from Starfleet. I'll do it because I have to. I made a promise to this crew.

Still. It would be so much easier. So much less suffocating if there was someone who truly–

"_Seven to the captain."_

The headache that is my constant companion these days pulses behind my eyes at her voice. _What now?_ _If it's those coils again, I __**swear**__ I'm ordering B'Elanna to rip them out of the bulkheads this time._

I sigh tiredly. "Go ahead, Seven."

"_I am in Astrometrics, and we are receiving a distress call."_

I close my eyes and let my head tilt back until it hits the back of my chair. I don't have the time or the energy for this. Don't the spirits know that the command crew of this ship is doing the best it can just to put one foot in front of the other each day at this point? Does fate _really_ feel the need to throw something more at us? Right _now_?

"_Captain…" _

Her voice is hesitant and unsure. Not qualities usually inherent to Seven. She has my full attention again because it's nothing less than she deserves, I remind myself sharply.

"_It is a Federation signal."_

I freeze. Open my eyes. Truly alert for the first time today.

_Maybe… Maybe fate has decided to be kind today at last. Maybe she recognizes how little I can take anymore._

_Maybe…_

I'm already on my feet, heading for the doors. My steps feeling slightly lighter than they have in months. "I'm on my way."


End file.
